The Fellowship Plus One
by WarriorArnelle
Summary: MOVIEVERSE   Rianadra, a dragonling, joins the Fellowship after they leave Rivendell. She stays with them throughout all their adventures in the hope of finding her lost brother. LegolasxOC
1. Leaving Mirkwood

Prologue- Leaving Mirkwood

"Riana… I'm tired!" Cri's temperamental voice whined from behind me. I groaned. I loved my baby brother, truly I did, but the poor child really could drive one crazy. It also didn't help that he knew every little trick there was to annoying me, or that he used them frequently enough to work even better. "We've been going since… Forever!" I forced a smile to my face, trying to appear patient and kind for him.

"I know, little brother. But these are dark times we live in. Our secret halls in Mirkwood are no longer safe," I told him, trying to keep my voice soft. He knew all this already. We both did, but neither of us truly wanted to leave the home we had made for ourselves after our parent's deaths. But now, with the spreading of Evil across Middle Earth, we could no longer hide in safety in Mirkwood. It simply was no longer possible. I just wanted Cri to understand that. If we had a choice, any choice other than what we were doing, I would have chosen that path. Cri didn't understand, or didn't want to understand. I didn't want to either, but I had to.

"I _know_ that, Riana. But we could have stayed there!" And here it was again. We had had this argument several times a day since leaving our home in the northwest corner of Mirkwood. And that had been nearly a week and a half ago. Far too long to be having the same argument. I turned to face my brother, my purple eyes meeting his dark orange ones. Gently, I placed my hands on his shoulders, expecting him to shrug them off and stamp off as he usually did. This time, however, he surprised me, holding my gaze as steadily as I looked at him. We were both worse for the wear, for certain, with brambles caught in our too-long hair and torn clothing. He had a small scrape on his cheek where a branch had caught him, and I was sure I looked the same. Cri's voice dragged me back to our conversation. "You can fight, and you taught me! I know we could have stayed there!" If only.

Creatures that long had avoided us had become more daring. Creatures I wasn't sure I could beat if it came to a fight. The Evil I had begun sensing some years before had grown stronger, and it was giving these creatures greater strength. Cri couldn't yet sense the Evil as strongly as I did. He didn't understand the danger we were in, hiding alone, two dragonlings left on our own, in a forest largely unoccupied. "Cri…" I began, but stopped. I didn't know how to tell him that. He knew only of his own world, where I could fight anything that came our way and destroy it. I could fight the rare wolf or other natural predator that came to try my strength, but had never been forced into true battle. I wasn't certain of my strength, my control over the powers inherited from my parents. It was simply too dangerous. I couldn't tell him that. It was too big for him, too big for the mind of one little more than a child.

For that matter, it was far too big for me. But I had long since learned to handle things that were too big for me. Raising Cri, hunting for us, building us a home where we would be safe and not be found. All of that had been far too big for me; at the time, I had been the equivalent of ten human years, or about one hundred or so of mine. It was learn to live alone or perish alone. I wasn't ready to die; the nature of a dragonling is to survive, as it is for most living things. And so I learned. And now, Cri had to learn that same lesson. It was a lesson I didn't want to have to teach him. But there was no one else.

"Why did we have to leave?" This time, Cri wasn't complaining. Despite having grown quite a bit over the last one hundred years, he still had the mind of a child. He had never had to grow up, really. Before now, it was fine for him to remain that way; now, however, he had a lot of catching up to do. I hoped, when all this was over, some of that child could remain. He shouldn't have to become old in the space of only a few years. I slid my arms around him and pulled him to me. He clung to the back of my near-ruined tunic desperately, but no tears fell. We never cried. It was our rule. Crying and feeling sorry for ourselves took strength we didn't often have to spare. After a time, I pulled back from Cri and met his gaze again.

"We must move on, little brother," I told him gently. "One day, perhaps, we can return home." He nodded once, resolute. A comma of brown hair flopped over his eyes, and he brushed it back impatiently. I smiled at him, flipping my own mop of silvery hair over my shoulder. "Let's go."


	2. Ambushed

Lord of the Rings- The Fellowship Plus One

Chapter One: Ambushed

The next few days travel were much quieter than our first weeks. Cri seemed to have come to terms with the fact that we could not return to Mirkwood, and now had thrown himself into helping me hunt and make camp each night. For this, I was beyond grateful. It had torn my heart to shreds to tear him away from the only home he had ever known, and to tell him he could never return. To see him accept this was something I had begun to believe would never happen; I had been prepared to accept his hating me for it. By all the luck left in Middle Earth, that had not happened. Instead he chose to help me.

The nights were clear, though chilly, and we bundled together shortly after the sun fell each day to sleep. We were running low on the food I had packed and would have to start hunting simply to eat every day, or go without for a few days. We could manage, but neither of us would enjoy it. I hoped we could find someone to help us before then. Or simply find an encampment where we could stay for a time. But as the days wore on, even the hope of that faded away to nothing. The world had never seemed so empty. I began to wish only to see another living soul, if only to know the world had not truly gone to Hell like I imagined. If only I had thought that wish through before making it. Be careful what you wish for. I had heard that so many times, but it was never clearer until a few days later.

The morning of the beginning of our third week of travel dawned just like all the others: a burst of colors in the eastern sky and a chill of dew on our clothes that had soaked through during the night. We didn't expect anything out of the ordinary to happen that day, so we simply continued on as we had been doing since we left Mirkwood nearly a month before. I woke with the sun before disentangling myself from Cri, who simply curled in on himself to keep warm and stay asleep. I smiled fondly at him before rising and stretching. My wings waved behind me, stretching to their full eight-food span as I stretched; my tail stuck out almost perfectly straight behind me for a moment before relaxing as I turned to look around. I looked up into the sky, wishing Cri and I could travel that way, our wings full of warm air as we spiraled upwards before dropping straight down on cold drafts. I remembered being able to do that in the mountains, but we couldn't do that in safety here. Someone would see, and we had to be inconspicuous if we wanted to survive. Which we did. Which meant no flying, no soaring effortlessly over ground it would take us days to traverse. I sighed, turning my gaze away from the bewitching sky.

Cri stirred shortly after as I began gathering the remains of the hares we had eaten last night. There was little left, but it would have to serve as breakfast for now. Perhaps, if we were lucky, we would find something else later on to add to them. I handed half of what I found to a still-blurry-eyed Cri, and we ate them cold and unadorned. I wistfully remembered meals of venison and boar flavored with whatever herbs I could find, as well as forest mushrooms and roots that were safe to eat. But we had not that fare here, and I could not think of it. Otherwise I would be hungrier than I already was, though technically I should be able to go days without having to eat. Cri was not yet old enough for that, and by all accounts, neither was I, apparently. He and I sighed softy at the same moment and shared a brief smile before preparing to start another day's long trek. We didn't even know where we were. Neither of us could read a map, so we could only hope we were going the right way.

Over the past few days, the ground had become drier and more rocky. I assumed this meant we were close to the mountains, and I couldn't wait to see them again. Unlike Cri, who would always associate forests with home, I longed for rocky crags, dark caves, and steep crevasses. I longed for mountains, my home. But they were still a long ways off, although we could just barely see them in the horizon that morning as the sun rose. I stared at them hungrily, barely able to hold myself to the ground and not hurl myself at them in an attempt to get there that day. I wanted to be home. But we couldn't. Not here. These open areas were far too dangerous, even acting as Men. We daren't even look at the sky as something we could reach.

The sky stayed clear as the sun marched steadily west. Cri and I barely spoke to each other at all, not out of lack of desire. We were so discouraged by the lack of living contact that it was weighing us down, slowing us down. As before, I wished fervently for some living creature to stumble across our path, so we would know we were not the last ones alive.

I should not have made that wish.

Cri and I did not find anything else edible to add to the cold rabbit in our bellies, and so we marched on with rumbling stomachs and praying for a good meal. I think it was the hunger that distracted us. We always could sense danger, if we were wary. We were not, and it nearly killed us. We had reached a series of hills with trails through the valleys between them. We stayed on the paths, thinking that many ambushers would expect us to keep off them. It was stupid, blind, reckless. We were not thinking clearly, I suppose.

The ambush took us completely by surprise. One second, the birds were singing softly in the warm air. The next, they had stopped and Cri and I were surrounded by creatures with black skin and armor, and wild black hair. Not one of them spoke a tongue I was familiar with; instead, they communicated through a series of growl-like noises, snorts, and snarls. One thing I knew, though, was that they were not friendly. My brother and I were in great danger if we couldn't fight them off. I spun around and slammed Cri to the ground behind me, standing over him, fists raised. One of the creatures snorted with what could only be amusement, and then they attacked.

I wasn't at all accustomed to fighting an enemy that actually could think and strategize, and it was only too obvious in those first few seconds of the battle. I gathered energy into my palms as soon as I could think clearly, and it manifested as tiny balls of flame clenched in my hands. The creatures didn't notice at first, thankfully, and I took a moment to think of where would be best to strike. They didn't group together, like pack animals when they attacked, so that was out. I was still debating when Cri screamed behind me. I whirled around to see three of them converging on my baby brother and I acted without thinking. My arm snapped out, the fireball in my hand flying towards the creatures threatening my brother. It hit the ground directly before them and exploded. Unable to stop in time, they ran straight into the inferno. To their shrieks of pain and horror, I turned to the rest.

They were gone. When I had flung that fireball, they had all melted swiftly back into the hills, disappearing as fast as they had first come upon us. Nearly boneless with relief, I turned back to Cri, ready to celebrate my first victory in a true battle. He wasn't there.

I froze, my mind not comprehending this. He was just there. I had seen him, I knew I had. It wasn't possible for him to just be _gone_, and yet, he was. I stood there in complete shock for a moment more before one thought came to mind.

Find him. Find Cri.

Single-minded now in the need to find him, I tilted my head back and screamed, "CRI!" The echoes of my call had barely died away before I did it again. "CRI!" I closed my eyes, praying to hear his voice calling my name. My ears strained to hear past their natural range, but I heard nothing. Where had Cri gone? Where could he have gone? I had turned away only for a second. Surely that wasn't anywhere near enough time for someone to come and grab him, or for him to totally disappear from my sight and hearing. I called for him again, and again, and again, each time hoping I would hear his call.

But it never came. I spent the rest of that day and most of the night searching for him. But there was nothing. I found no sign of where he had gone, only where we had been. It was like he had been swooped up by some flying thing. But dragons were mostly extinct, and the few that were still alive rarely left their caves of loot. Besides, I would have sense the presence of Power that strong. No, it hadn't been a dragon. But if not that, what else? I couldn't answer that, and it terrified me. Perhaps those creatures had somehow taken him when they disappeared, and for his sake I hoped not. Something told me that would be a fate worse than death. I was scared for him, but more, I was scared for me. I was alone now.

I had never been totally alone in the long years of my life. Always, I had either had Cri or my parents within earshot. Never before had I been left completely and utterly on my own. I didn't know if I could survive it. Tears swarmed my vision for a moment, and I was terrified they would fall and break my main rule. I would not cry, not even over this. I didn't have time for tears. Cri didn't have time for my tears. Slowly I fought them back, and forced myself to think of only what I needed to do.

Keep moving. I had to keep moving, in case those things came back to finish what they'd started.

And maybe, if I kept moving, I would find Cri.


	3. Discovered

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Two: Discovered<p>

After Cri disappeared, I simply wandered. I searched for him, certainly, but after a time, I came to believe that I would never find him. He was simply… gone. And there was nothing I could do about it.

I wandered, sleeping when I was tired, hunting only when I was about to faint from hunger. I drank water only when necessary, and even then sometimes I would simply ignore my thirst. These things were no longer important to me in the face of my brother's vanishing. It was my fault he had vanished. If I hadn't forced him to uproot from the only home he had known, he would still be there, by my side, making silly faces and goofing off when he should be working. I had no idea how much I would miss that until he was no longer there to do those things. My sadness at his loss overtook me. Now that I was old enough to truly understand the pain of loss, it was all I could think about. It consumed me utterly. Cri was gone. I was alone.

I half wanted to die. I had spent my life, two hundred human years, watching over him, raising him. In a sense, he was more my son than my brother. And now, I had lost both. But every time I thought perhaps I should join him, the part of me that needed to survive took over and made me hunt, or look for water, or rest. I wasn't even truly living anymore. I was only surviving.

After a time, though, my body could no longer keep up what I had been putting it through. I had gone days without eating, without water, and nearly a week without rest. And even a dragonling's body cannot withstand such punishment. It failed me. My mind knew what it had to do, but the body simply could not do it anymore. My eyes went blurry, and not from tears. I couldn't focus on anything. My thoughts danced like fireflies through my mind, never staying long enough for me to truly know what I was thinking. Even my single-minded purpose to find Cri was impossible to continue. I had failed him. If he was still alive, I had failed him so utterly I could not believe it. I had allowed myself to fall into this, and now I could not get out.

I developed a fever, and my limbs shook every time I moved. I forced my wings and tail away, and that gave the remaining four more energy for all of a few hours. It wasn't enough. I was failing. Everything was failing. Finally, I could not push myself any farther. My body simply collapsed and refused to get back up; my mind even had all but turned off. No thoughts came to me, and I could hardly see anymore. I barely noticed when I slipped into unconsciousness.

Later, I know not how much later, I awoke to the sounds of voices nearby. A small company was passing me, not far from where I lay. I had just enough energy to force myself to my feet to see who it was. What I saw was not what I had expected.

A ragtag group of people passed by me. A man in a grey cloak who could only be a wizard, two Men, what had to be a Dwarf, and four small men, barely the size of children moved swiftly past the spot where I stood, clinging to a tree branch to stay on my feet. I stared at them as they moved on, wondering who they were and why they were so far out here. Mostly I wondered why they all were so different. Briefly I contemplated the idea of calling to them for help, but I decided against that. Even me, with my fevered mind, could see the purpose about them. They were on some important mission, I could tell. No, I would not deign to burden them with an ill dragonling, one with a quasi-death wish. I relinquished my hold on the branch and would have collapsed back to the ground if strong arms had not caught me.

At first I wondered who in Middle Earth could have suddenly come out of nowhere to grab me, and then the adrenaline kicked in. Even ill as I was, I was strong enough to at least try to put up a good fight. And try I did. Kicking, snarling weakly, and trying to scratch, I fought to escape the hold on me, but whoever had me was stronger than I thought. Suddenly, I remembered the things I had fought before. What if this was one of them? Desperate now, I struggled against whoever it was. Right up until I heard a voice like the quiet laughter of a brook in summer. A voice that could only belong to an Elf.

"Shh, I am not going to harm you," it said, calm and gentle. The tone entered my panicked mind, calming me just enough to realize how stupid I was being. He, for the voice was too deep to be anything but a male, had made no move to harm me thus far. I had reacted without thinking. Still, he kept talking. "Calm down, you are in no danger from me. Calm." Finally, I calmed enough to allow my body to relax; I slumped down in his grasp. He moved immediately to take more of my weight so I could remain at least partially on my feet. I wanted to thank him, but I could not find my voice. I was still trying to say something when another voice, rough around the edges, called out.

"Legolas! Where did you disappear to?" That voice was too rough to be anything other than the Dwarf I had spotted earlier. So Legolas must be the Elf who was helping me. I turned to look at him, but could only see a little of his profile. A sharp nose, and the fair skin common to his kind. "We need to be moving on!" the Dwarf called again.

"Come back a ways, Gimli," Legolas answered, still calm but with a hint of urgency to his voice. "We may have to stop for a time."

"What?" This was another new voice. Gravelly, but kind, and I assumed it was the Wizard. I relaxed even more. I had heard of Wizards, and I knew I could trust this one. I relaxed even more, becoming little more than dead weight hanging off Legolas' arm. He glanced down at me.

"Are you all right?" His voice was quieter now, more like when he had first spoken to me. "Are you hurt?" I didn't think so, so I just shrugged as well as I could. His eyebrows lowered over his eyes in concern, but I ignored him. I was more interested in seeing the rest of the Elf's companions come back around the bend in the footpath they had been following. Slowly, the four tiny men reappeared, followed by the Dwarf with the huge axe, then the two Men. Finally, with a stately and kindly air about him, the Wizard came around the bend. His grey eyes focused on my face, and I had the sudden desire to turn away, to hide from that gaze. Did he know? Could he tell that I wasn't human, nor Elf, nor anything he had seen before? If he did, he gave no sign of it. Instead he simply moved towards us and took some of my deadweight from Legolas.

"Where did you find her, Legolas?" the Wizard asked, his voice low, like he was trying not to startle me. Had I the energy, I would have laughed. The idea of me being startled, now that I had been discovered, was ludicrous at best. I concentrated on breathing normally for a moment before returning attention to the conversation. Legolas was telling the Wizard where he had found me.

"Just over there," he gestured vaguely behind him. "In the trees." The Wizard returned his stormy grey eyes to mine, and this time I met his gaze unwaveringly. After a moment, he nodded once.

"We must make camp soon, as it is. We will care for her there. Sam!" One of the little men glanced up.

"Yes, Master Gandalf?" he asked.

"Can Bill hold her weight?"

"I dunno, sir, maybe." The Wizard, Gandalf, sighed deeply as he considered this.

"Legolas, can you carry her?" I shifted briefly, bringing his gaze back to mine.

"I can walk. Sort of," I said as firmly as I could. He studied me for a long time, then nodded.

"What is your name, girl?" I smiled at the term "girl". He wouldn't call me that if he knew what I was.

"Rianadra. Or Riana for short." He nodded.

"Well the, Rianadra, walk if you wish, but stay near Legolas." I nodded and Legolas released his hold on me. I stumbled for a second then regained my balance. I turned back to face the Elf and was met with a small smile and kind sky blue eyes. I smiled tentatively back before one of the Men spoke firmly.

"We need to find a safe place to camp." The others all moved to follow Gandalf again, and Legolas and I fell into step near the end of the line. I turned to him.

"Who are they?" I gestured vaguely towards the small men and the others in front of us. Legolas gripped my arm as I tripped over my own feet and kept his hand there, just in case. It felt nice to be looked after, instead of being the one _doing_ the looking. I smiled.

"The Dwarf is Gimli, son of Gloin, you've met Gandalf," I nodded, "The dark haired Man is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. The one with the shield is Boromir of Gondor. The Halflings-"

I interrupted him there, "Oh, _that's _what they're called!" He gave me a look before continuing.

"The Halflings are Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin," he pointed them out individually. I briefly despaired of ever getting all the names right; he smiled at me. "None of us expects you to learn all our names immediately." I had to grin back at him, weak as I was sure it appeared.

"That's certainly good to know," I answered softly. "Thank you, by the way." He glanced at me in confusion.

"For what?"

"Helping me. I was starting to think there was no one out here." He started to answer, but a call from whoever was leading now brought us both to silence.

"We shall camp here for the night. Sam, get something cooking. I think we all could use a good meal." Gandalf took his hat off and sat solidly on a boulder at the edge of a clearing. The path had evidently led out into this small open area, with boulders around the edges and overlapping branches providing cover. It was a nice spot, good for a campsite of a company this size. Legolas all but dragged me over to a spot by a large boulder and set me down next to it before joining me.

We remained silent, just watching the others prepare food for all of us and settle in for the night. I pulled my thin tunic around me, wondering if it would be warm enough now that Cri wasn't there to share body heat. A moment later, something thick and warm fell across my legs. I glanced down, surprised, to see a thick green cloak laying across my lap; looking up, I saw that Legolas had given me the cloak he was wearing before moving to get food from the fire.

He came back with two bowls of something that steamed; my mouth watered. I hadn't had hot food in _days_. For a moment I felt guilty, thinking of Cri and where he was; then I figured that he would want me to be healthy if I was going to keep searching for him. I took the bowl Legolas offered me and nearly inhaled it. After that, I just drank water while the others ate and settled down to sleep. My eyelids started to drift shut and, after a few minutes of battling it, I drifted into sleep, feeling safer than I had since leaving Mirkwood.


	4. Journey

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Three: Journey<p>

"So, what exactly are you doing all the way out here anyway?" I asked Legolas as we gathered to set out again the next morning. "I take it most do not come out here for pleasure." The Elf smiled slightly at my rather weak joke and shook his head.

"No, no one journeys out here for pleasure. This country does not lend itself to that," he answered, a tiny bit of laughter in his voice. He was different from most elves I had ever seen. They were always serious and perfect. Legolas had a sense of humor, and he was more prone to smiling (or grinning at least) than sitting and contemplating. I liked him for it. It was nice to finally meet someone who could keep up with me. Cri could… but… Since he was currently missing, I had to make do with someone who could even give _him_ a run for his money. I had to laugh at the image. Legolas gave me a strange, questioning glance as he fixed his bow and quiver to his back.

"Thinking of something funny my brother did once." It was a total lie, but I was not telling him I had pictured a stately Elf cracking bawdy jokes with my baby brother across a campfire and a jug of mulled wine. Granted, Cri would not be _getting _any mulled wine for a while, so I don't know where the win came from. And Legolas would not be getting that out of me.

The Elf raised an eyebrow in response to my statement, and I nearly burst out laughing again. The expression was so un-elf-like, but somehow it fit him. After a moment of me not telling him what I was really thinking, he shook his head good-naturedly and answered my original question, "We set out from Rivendell about seven days ago, on a journey given to us by the Council." That didn't answer my question at all, and I told him so. The dwarf, Gimli, guffawed obnoxiously a little ways off.

"Good luck getting a straight answer out of an Elf girl. They don't like them." Legolas glared at the dwarf with little heat and shook his head. "Anyway, do you know about the One Ring?" I didn't. Living in a forest with no one but a child and the forest animals hardly lent itself to gaining worldly knowledge. Such as this One Ring thing. I had no idea what it was, or why it had anything to do with their quest. I shook my head no. "How do you not know of it?" Gimli seemed oddly shocked by my ignorance; I just shrugged. "Well, anyway, it is this Ring of Power that the Dark Lord Sauron made in ages past." Legolas took up the tale from there as the little company moved out.

"With that Ring, he gained the power to nearly destroy Middle Earth. If not for Isildur, he would have. As it was, he was not destroyed, only set back. Now, he wants his Ring back."

"We must destroy it so Sauron may be destroyed forever," a new voice spoke from a little ahead of our little story triangle. I glanced up to see Aragorn falling back to join us. "If Sauron is able to take back what is his, the world will fall into Shadow that it will not escape from. That is our quest." I blinked. This was far bigger than I had anticipated.

"Oh," popped out of my mouth before I could stop it, and I cursed my oh-so-intelligent response. Legolas patted my shoulder. I glared at him, and he raised his hands slightly in mock surrender. Aragorn smiled and chuckled. I grinned at him. "So, basically, you're going to destroy a piece of jewelry, albeit powerful jewelry, so the Big Bad doesn't come and destroy the world?" This time Aragorn and Gimli laughed out loud; even Legolas was sporting a wide smile, amusement dancing in his eyes. I waited patiently for an answer.

"In a sense, yes. Although I have never heard the Dark Lord described as 'big bad' before," Aragorn finally said once he and the Dwarf were done with their near-hysterics.

"That's what he is, right? Big, bad evil guy?" That just set them off again, so I moved up the line so I could have a halfway normal conversation. Legolas followed me.

"I have never seen Aragorn laugh like that, Rianadra. I am impressed." I blinked.

"I bet I could even make _you_ cackle like that if I tried hard enough." I could make an Ent laugh, if I tried. He stared at me, his mouth curling into a smile despite him obviously trying to prevent it. "See? You're smiling." He tried to glare at me but failed. And it was hilarious. Now it was my turn to start laughing like a loon. Legolas looked at me like I was mad, and I might have been at that point. Decent food, decent rest, and I felt better than I had in weeks. Much more like the old Rianadra. But apparently our noise wasn't as fun to everyone else, as eventually Boromir yelled back at us to be quiet. And we tried, honestly we did, but it just didn't work. It was far too much fun trying to make Legolas laugh and setting either Gimli or Aragorn or one of the Halflings off instead. Boromir glared at me, but I just smiled cheekily at him and kept up with my jokes.

Eventually, though, we did calm down, and I think Boromir especially was grateful for the relative silence. I had rejoined Gimli and Aragorn, but Aragorn went to stay near Frodo, the important one of the group, from what I gathered. Legolas came back from the front of the line, and we spent the rest of the travel to the camp for that day telling each other stories, either legends of Mirkwood or legends of Middle Earth that I didn't know existed. When we did stop, it was in mid-afternoon, far too early to be stopping in my mind. But everyone else seemed glad of the respite, so I kept my mouth shut and went to help Sam cook some sort of meal.

While we were cooking, I asked him, "Do you always stop so early?" He looked up at me in surprise.

"This is early?" I nodded, and he shrugged. "If it were up to us hobbits, we'd stop every few hours for food, but Strider has us going nearly all the time. This is about normal time for us to be stopping. At least for a meal, anyways." I nodded again, amused.

"How often do you eat? Normally, I mean." He laughed.

"Oh, at least seven times a day, lady. Breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, afternoon tea, dinner and supper are the main ones. Then there are snacks between those, and more snacks between _those_." He smiled proudly. I stared at him. Seven meals a day? Where did the tiny things _put_ all that food? I could scarcely believe it. "Anyway, if you like, here's something for dinner, lady." I shook my head again at the "lady" nonsense, but took the plate of food over to where Boromir was attempting to teach the other two Hobbits as Sam had called them how to fight. He seemed to be having fun.

"Now, strike, strike, move your feet, and strike!" he cried, laughing. "Good, Pippin!" The Hobbit he had spoken to near glowed with pride. "Merry!" The other launched into the fight, and was accidently smacked with Boromir's sword. "Sorry, sorry!" the Man exclaimed, still grinning. The two Hobbits glared at him.

"Get him!" the one called Merry cried, and they both leaped on him in a strange parody of a wrestling match. I had to laugh, and Aragorn chuckled around the pipe stuck in his mouth. In the meantime, I heard Gimli starting to complain again.

"We should not go over the mountain! Let us go under it; let us go to the Mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome!" He was forever talking about his cousin Balin, apparently someone important. I didn't care. Chances were I wouldn't be staying with this strange group, amusing as they were. I had to find Cri; I couldn't get distracted. I sighed as suddenly Boromir's voice went serious.

"What is that?" I glanced where he was looking and saw a dark shape, not much different from the clouds around it. Gimli apparently was thinking the same thing.

"Just a wisp of cloud," the irritable Dwarf grumbled. I shook my head. That wasn't it. It was moving too fast, against a stiff breeze.

"It's moving fast," I said softly, echoed by Boromir. "Against the wind." Again the Man echoed me by just a moment. A moment later, Legolas cried an alarm.

"Crebain from Dunland!" The others leaped to action as Aragorn shouted, "Hide!" I leaped to grab a pot from the fire, ignoring the heat as Sam poured water over it. Legolas gestured urgently for me to join him in a small hiding place under a tree branch and a bush. I dove into it, my fall cushioned by his body. The storm of crows came over our area, and we froze despite the awkward positions we were in.

I carefully rolled over, trying not to stab Legolas with an elbow or a knee, and stared up through the branches as the crows swarmed over the area we had just occupied like it was a normal day. They circled around once more before swooping off to travel south. I gulped.

Legolas gently touched my shoulder, having somehow wriggled out from underneath me without me noticing. He was now crouched beside me, watching the dark cloud of crows with worried blue eyes. I tried not to stare, but it was so hard. He was good-looking, even for an Elf. Then I shook my head at my own giddiness. I was a dragonling, he was and Elf. Even if I was looking for something of that nature, it wouldn't work between our races. At his questioning glance, I just shook my head. "Nothing." He nodded, but still looked skeptical. I groaned mentally. Why couldn't he be gullible?

Slowly, we all crawled out from our respective hiding places; Gandalf turned to look down the passage south. A moment later he turned to the rest of us, who were watching him, waiting for him to tell us our new direction. Even me, and I was planning on leaving soon. Or I thought I was. Who knew, now. Perhaps my chances of finding Cri would increase with this group. The only way to tell was to keep going. Keep moving. I wouldn't leave yet. Give it a little more time, I thought. Then I will decide.

"The passage south is being watched," Gandalf was saying when I came back from my thoughts. "We cannot go that way." The others nodded. I was just confused. What was so bad about south? But apparently it was bad enough to warrant not going that way. I sighed as Gandalf continued.

"We must take the pass of Caradhras."


	5. Of Mountains and Mines

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Four: Of Mountains and Mines<p>

I loved Caradhras. The snow, the biting wind, and the closeness to the sky, I loved it all. This place, this great mountain, was so similar to my old home, before Mirkwood. It reminded me of my parents, of the happier times that I could still barely remember. Needless to say, my mood was quite a bit higher than any of the others'. Legolas commented on it several times, and Gimli just glared at me as I skipped around, grinning like a fool. I ignored them both. For now, I was happy, despite everything that had happened. For now, I was as close to home as I would get.

Of course, not everyone was as pleased about our current path as me; and I did pity them. None of the others liked the snow, or the wind; I seriously doubted they realized how close the sky was all the way up here. Only dragons and dragonlings really noticed things like that. I pitied them their ignorance. One day, perhaps, I would show them the glory of the skies.

Perhaps not. Only time would tell.

The ten of us marched steadily up the mountain, coming closer and closer to the summit, albeit slower than I would have on my own. But here, I was supposed to be normal, or as close to it as I could come. I followed at the others' pace, settling for looking around me with excitement and a heart ready to burst with joy. Legolas kept close to me, as did Gimli, although the Dwarf did keep giving me strange looks. The Elf had long stopped commenting on my strange happiness while the rest of them were miserable. Speaking of… My gaze swung down from the sky as I heard a soft cry from behind us.

"Frodo!" Aragorn called out. I turned to see him catch a small form from tumbling back down the way we had come. Carefully, he helped the Hobbit back to his feet and held him as he pawed nervously at the neckline of his shirt. Something wasn't there that should be, that was obvious, but his desperation when he couldn't find it confused me. Could it really be that important? I was about to go help him look for it when the Man with the shield, Boromir, stooped to lift something from the snow.

It hung from a silver chain, an ominous flash of gold against the snow. I stepped back from it, feeling the Evil that had spread from the south. That must be the One Ring Aragorn had told me about earlier today. The one that must be destroyed at all costs. I turned my gaze from it, trying to block the feeling of the Evil as Boromir brushed the thing with a gloved fingertip.

"It is so strange, that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over such a little thing," I heard him murmur as he studied it. I studiously looked anywhere but at him; the Evil was filling him. I could almost see it happening. "Such a little thing…" he trailed off and stared at it. Could no one else see what was happening? Someone had to get the thing away from him.

"Boromir!" Aragorn's voice broke the stream of Evil, and I was more than grateful. I felt shaky, nervous, as Boromir turned his attention to the other Man and away from the Ring. "Give the Ring to Frodo," the dark-haired one continued. Boromir sighed, almost touching the little thing again before holding it out to the Hobbit.

"As you wish," he said with a hint of sarcasm to his voice. "I care not." I would have snarled at his tone if I wasn't trying to appear as un-dragonling-like as possible. I didn't like the man. I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him. It worried me, and apparently it did Aragorn, as well; I saw him slowly release his grip on his sword hilt as Boromir swung his shield over his shoulder and walked away. I wasn't the only one that wasn't certain Boromir of Gondor could be trusted.

We continued our journey up the mountain, but this time my joy was dimmed by sudden feelings of doom, of fear, that invaded my thoughts. We were not safe here. In fact, this path, I was certain, was even less safe than the passage South would have been. I wanted to warn them, but I highly doubted they would listen to me. Still, I had to try.

"Legolas?" I kept my voice pitched low, so only the Elf would hear me. He glanced my way briefly before turning back to watching the others.

"What is it?" he responded a moment later, his voice also low.

"Do you feel that? A presence, danger?" He stared at me then nodded once. "Do any of the others?"

"I doubt it. Gandalf may, but he is intent on getting us over this mountain safely. There is a good chance he is ignoring it if he does feel it."

"But that's ridiculous. This way is dangerous!" Legolas nodded in agreement before laying a hand on my shoulder.

"We cannot go back the way we came, Rianadra. This is the only way we can go." He sounded so much like me when I had to convince Cri that leaving Mirkwood was the only way to survive. I blinked back the tears that thought brought me and nodded back at him.

"Then we must keep them safe. There must be a way." I was certain there had to be some way. Even if Gandalf wasn't aware, the Elf and I both were. Surely there was something we could do to protect the others, even if I could not reveal my nature to them. I still had some of my strength that could be seen as normal.

"We shall try. I cannot say more than that." He looked up at the sky, and the dark clouds that had been building for hours. "There is a fell voice on the air, Rianadra. Can you hear it?" I listened to the wind and for just a moment, I heard a voice chanting. I met Legolas' eyes for a second; he nodded. "You can." I didn't even bother to nod. He knew.

And we were in greater danger than I had thought. That voice had power, great power, behind it. I felt sure that it was a Wizard, and not a kind one like Gandalf. He wanted to stop us, here and now, however he could. Legolas and I exchanged firm nods before moving to catch up with the rest of the company who had gone on ahead. We found them bunched on a narrow ledge, battered by snow and flying ice that had simply not been there moments before. Shocked, I pulled the hood of the cloak I had been given up over my head, peering out through the storm.

The voice I had heard moments before was much clearer now, but the words were still not clear. I assumed it was some language I didn't know, and followed Legolas as he moved past the others struggling through the snow. Somehow, he and I didn't sink into it like the others did, and I was grateful for it. There was a good chance this ability could save our lives, and those of the others. Suddenly, the air around us lit with a brilliant white light followed by thunder and falling chunks of ice from a ledge above us. The Hobbits yelled in fear and Legolas and I leaped back, barely avoiding being taken over the edge.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" I wondered who "he" was, but didn't have time to wonder as another gust of wind tore at our clothes, trying to pull us over. I grabbed Legolas' arm and together, we kept our balance as an argument raged below us. "Gandalf, we must turn back!" Aragorn had to shout to even be barely heard over the rage of the storm, but Gandalf had heard him.

"NO!" The Wizard then rose to join me and Legolas and tried calling out a spell to help us, but it didn't work.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan, then move through the Westfold to my city!" That was Boromir. Aragorn disagreed.

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard." I assumed that Isengard was not a place we wanted to go to, and was no doubt home to the Wizard who was still trying to bring the mountain down on our heads.

"Let us not go over the mountain!" That was Gimli, still pushing his desire to go to his cousin. "Let us go to the Mines of Moria!" Gandalf turned back to look at the ragtag company, all of whom were staring at him, waiting for a decision.

But instead of deciding, Gandalf spoke to Frodo, "Let the Ring-bearer decide." All eyes then swung to the tiny form of the Hobbit, who looked back nervously. A moment later, he spoke, surprisingly firmly considering the fear in his eyes.

"We will go through the mines." Gandalf nodded.

"So be it." With that, we headed into the mountains, now following Gimli, the only one who knew the way to Moria. Soon we were out of the wind, and into a cavern with a large lake and a huge, flat wall of stone. The instant we left the mountainside, the storm outside stopped. Whoever was controlling it knew what we were doing. Somehow, I knew he thought where we were going would do his job for us. This worried me, but we had no choice. It was either brave the mines, and whatever they held in store for us, or risk the mountain.

I would rather have braved the mountain, but the others seemed more comfortable underground than me. I shifted closer to Legolas. "Part of me thinks this is going to end very badly," I whispered to him. He nodded in agreement but didn't speak. Instead we all followed Gandalf to a carved doorway in the great wall of stone.

"Now, let me see…. Ithilden. It mirrors only starlight," he paused then continued, "and moonlight." Seconds later, a single moonbeam entered the cavern, alighting on the carvings; they began to glow in the shape of two doors. Around the edges words were written in a language I could not recognize. Gandalf, however, did, "It reads, 'the doors of Durin. Speak friend and enter." I was confused, and apparently the rest of the company shared my feelings. One of the other Hobbits spoke up,

"What do you suppose that means?"

"It's simple, really. If you are friend, just speak the password, and the doors will open." Appearing very stately and Wizard-like, Gandalf placed the heel of his staff against the doors and spoke an incantation in a ringing voice. When he was done, we all waited with bated breath to see if the doors would open. They did not.

I almost laughed. It was all so silly: incantations, magical doors, passwords. But Gandalf looked annoyed, so I kept my amusement to myself. The company was settling down to rest while Gandalf attempted to find the right password to make the doors open. I got the feeling we were going to be there for quite some time, so I joined Legolas and Gimli as they settled on a large stone near the door. Aragorn joined us a moment later, after helping Sam set the pony Bill off to return home. Sam joined his fellow Hobbits, looking oddly downcast. He was really close to that pony. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli soon started a conversation as Aragorn began puffing away on that pipe of his. I just listened and watched Merry and Pippin have a contest of throwing stones.

Shortly later, though, Aragorn rose to catch Pippin's arm as he went to throw another stone. "Do not disturb the water. We know not what lies in it," he warned, his voice low. Almost at the same time, Gandalf sat heavily on a rock next to Frodo.

"Oh, it's useless," he grumbled. Frodo didn't seem to think so, however, as he stood and studied the doors.

"Speak friend, and enter. Gandalf?" The old Wizard looked over at him. "What's the Elvish word for 'friend'?" Shock flew over Gandalf's face as he spoke.

"_Mellon_."

At his voice, the doors began to groan, revealing a dark, empty space beyond.


	6. The Dwarf City

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Five: The Mines<p>

Slowly, the ten members of our little company approached the door Gandalf had finally opened. I was nervous; by our natures, dragonlings are not fond of deep caves. We do not mind natural ones, with crystals and odd twists and turns. But caves like this, mines that go far deeper than they ought, make us nervous. I was no exception to this part of our nature. And so, I stayed close to the back of the group, hoping to avoid actually having to enter the mines, and listening to Gimli brag about the prowess of Dwarves, "Soon, master Elf, you shall enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves! Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone!" I shook my head and glanced back out across the lake.

Something about it worried me; the water moved restlessly. Something was there, watching us. I knew it, and I knew that it was waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I did not relish the idea of turning my back completely to it, for fear of what it might do. However, none of the others seemed to share my concerns, especially after they got a glimpse of what awaited us inside the mines. I didn't even spare them a second glance until Gimli's cry of shocked agony reached my ears.

"No!" he cried loudly. Then again, "No…" The second time his voice trailed off into nothingness before I heard a long, agonized cry. That got my attention better than anything else. Gimli was not prone to outbursts of that nature; whatever lay inside was not something he had expected or wanted to see. The stirrings of fear in my belly grew. This was not going to end well. I moved to stand by Legolas, who pulled an arrow from a dead Dwarf's forehead. The Elf stared at it in disgust.

"Goblins," he muttered, dropping it to pull one of his own from his quiver and set it to his bow. I pulled my dagger from my belt and heard the others draw weapons, as well. Boromir spoke softly but firmly into the darkness.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here." I tended to agree with him for once. This did not bode well, not at all. The company turned to leave the mines when a startled yell from outside reached us.

"Aragorn!" I spun around to see what I had felt watching us just moments before; I froze in shock. A great creature, some sort of many-legged meat eater, had wrapped a tentacle around Frodo's foot and was dragging him towards its face. The Hobbit was screaming in terror, and I really could not blame him in the slightest. The great animal's face came out of the water, its mouth open in a great roar, revealing layers upon layers of sharp teeth. I wanted to run, far away from this monstrosity. But two of our company did not think as I did. Aragorn and Boromir leaped into action the second they heard Frodo's cry.

Slicing at tentacles, they attempted to get the thing to relinquish its hold on Frodo, but it was only after Boromir sliced all the way through one that it dropped the Hobbit. Aragorn caught him and the two Men raced for the doorway as the great monster roared at the loss of its meal. I was about to leap to their aid when Gandalf yelled from behind me, "Into the mines!" I grabbed for whoever was nearest me, which ended up being the Hobbits Merry and Pippin, and lunged into the darkness of the mines.

Aragorn, with Frodo held tightly to him like a babe, and Boromir barely made it through the doorway in time; tentacles gripped the stone edges of the doorway and pulled as the monster tried to haul its way towards food. It didn't make it, as the rocks of the doorway and those about it groaned and gave way. I pulled the two Hobbits closer to me and felt an arm wrap around my shoulders as rocks crashed to the ground too close to our company for comfort. I barely refrained from screaming as I saw the only escape from an unnatural cave closed off before me; the arm around my shoulders tightened for a moment, and I drew comfort from it.

Blackness surrounded us as the rock fall finally ended, sealing us into the Mines of Moria. I felt fear building in my chest and stomach as the darkness engulfed my mind until it was all I could think of. Just as I felt my control over that fear escaping me, a light glowed from somewhere behind me. Relief filled me until I heard Gandalf's next statement, "We now have but one choice. We must face the long dark of Moria." My throat closed off, and I felt my legs start to tremble. It was not in any way unusual for a dragonling to be claustrophobic, as most of my kind preferred open skies and open air. I normally counted myself lucky in that, but now my fear was working against me. I could feel the rock above me, bearing down until just the sense of it was enough to crush me. I gently pushed the Hobbits away from me so they would not be frightened by the trembling I could feel building in my body.

But I couldn't escape the firm but gentle grip on my shoulders; I turned back to see it was Legolas, and he was giving me a strange, concerned look. I shook my head and tried to smile at him. Since his eyebrows dropped in greater concern, I assumed it didn't work very well, so I just shook my head and shrugged. After a moment, he nodded and stepped back, although he stayed close. I was grateful for his presence; Elves were like dragonlings: they also were not highly fond of deep, dark places such as mines. I took comfort in the fact that I was most likely not alone in my fears.

"We must be swift and silent," Gandalf was saying as Legolas and I joined the rest, huddling around the Wizard as though hoping to gain his courage simply by proximity. "It is a four day journey to the other side, and there are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world." So much for my comfort. The crushing feelings swooped back, and I had to force them back by sheer will. I had no time for such things; the others were already moving off, following Gandalf's lighted staff. Not wanting to lose that little bit of light, I quickly followed, swallowing my fear as best I could.

I do not recall most of our long trek through the dark halls of the great Mines. For me, it was simply one long, long line of fear, anxiety, and the constant presence of miles of rock above me. Our company stopped only when tired, or hungry, but never for long. Gandalf was worried, and I knew he had good reason to be. We were alone in this place, more so than we were outside it. And there was no chance of going back.

I remember staircases so steep it was like climbing a straight rock wall; I recall keeping the two Hobbits, Merry and Pippin, from falling more than once, and reminding them to keep quiet. After what felt like an eternity of the same, we came upon a strange sight. Three doors, each leading to a different hallway, stood before us. Nervously, I watched as Gandalf slowly faced each one, looking more and more concerned as he did so. Then he uttered the seven words that nearly had me on the ground in fear.

"I have no memory of this place." My breath left me, and I would have fallen to the stony ground beneath me had Legolas, who had hardly left my side, grabbed my arm. He led me over to a boulder a little below the landing with the doors and handed me a canteen of water.

"Are you alright, Lady Rianadra?" he asked me, and his voice startled me. It had been quite a while since I'd heard him speak normally like this. I was surprised by how pleasant it was. Swiftly I shook those thoughts away; I had to remember. Nothing could work between us, even if I felt anything but friendship for him. I met his worried blue gaze steadily and nodded.

"I am fine, Legolas. Just not overly fond of places such as this." He sat next to me, drinking from the canteen after I was finished with it.

"I agree, Rianadra." I grinned weakly at him, and he attempted to return it. "I am much more at home among the forests." Just like Cri. My grin gained a little strength.

"I prefer mountains, myself." I leaned back and closed my eyes, picturing the mountains of my childhood. "Their majesty can be surpassed by nothing, although my brother may argue. The woods where we spent most of our lives will forever be home to him."

"But not to you." It was not a question; I opened my eyes to see him staring at me with such intensity his eyes nearly glowed. I shook my head.

"No, they are not home to me," I agreed softly. "Cri does not remember the mountains. I do, and I shan't forget them, or the feelings they give me." He nodded, but did not speak further. We lapsed into companionable silence, passing the canteen back and forth a few more times before he corked it and slipped it back into the packs we had taken from the pony Bill. I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of the woods, of freedom and brilliant sunshine that Legolas carried with him no matter where he went. It helped me to forget the massive amount of stone hanging over my head, and I tried to rest while I could.

I woke with a start later as Gandalf made a sound of satisfaction from above me. "AH!" he cried, gaining the attention of the entirety of our company. "It's that way," he continued. I grinned and stood, stretching. I sorely wished I could stretch my wings; they were getting severely cramped, being hidden all the time. I grinned as Gandalf answered a comment Merry had made when I wasn't paying attention, "No, but the air doesn't smell so foul down there. When in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose." I heard a few chuckles from the others at that. But the Wizard did have a point. I caught a whiff from the other tunnels and had to agree; the air in the one we were taking was marginally fresher. Not as good as the air aboveground, by any means, but certainly the best of the three.

Beyond the doorway were a series of stairs, which we took carefully. No sense rushing down them and having someone fall and break something. Better to go slow and make up for it later, if possible. Eventually, we reached the bottom of the stairs, thankfully with no injuries; although there were a couple of scares from clumsy Hobbits. At the bottom, we stared out into a space far more open than anything we had seen in this place so far. Even I could breathe a little more freely here than before, and for that I was beyond grateful. As we crowded around the bottom of the stairs, Gandalf spoke again, reverently almost, as though he was going to reveal something beyond our comprehension.

"Let me risk a little more light." He raised his staff, and the crystal set atop it glowed with greater strength than before, revealing something more than worth the reverence the Wizard had given it.

Rows upon rows of massive columns lined a room bigger than my mind considered possible. It was incredible; I glanced up to see how high they went, and found myself thinking, I could fly freely up there, almost as freely as in the sky! And it was true. The ceiling in this place was so high up, it may as well have been a grey, overcast sky with great pillars reaching up to support it. My breath left me in an awed whoosh, and I was not alone in that.

"Now there's an eye-opener and no mistake," a whisper came from Sam behind me. I grinned and nodded.

"It is incredible," I whispered, turning to look at the others. Sadly, we could not spend as much time admiring the great architecture of Dwarves as I would have wanted. Soon after, Gandalf was hurrying us along. I turned to Gimli as we gathered ourselves together to move out. "Your people must be the greatest of stoneworkers, to create such a feat as this," I told him; his chest puffed out with pride.

"Many are, lady Riana. Many are. Perhaps one day, you shall see more of our work?" I had to grin at him, although the thought of more caves caused a slight jump in my heart.

"Perhaps, Master Gimli, perhaps."


	7. Battle in the Deep

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Six: Battle in the Deep<p>

The great Dwarf city still managed to impress me after what could only be several days' time. The scale of it all amazed me most of all: how could a race as tiny as Gimli have created such a place? I had not been jesting when I claimed his people to be the greatest of stoneworkers. After all, only the greatest could build a place big enough to make a dragonling feel small. If I were not seeing it with my own eyes, I may have scoffed at the very idea that such a place existed.

Our company travelled more swiftly here than before; the city, though eerily empty, was still in good condition, unlike the tunnels leading up to it. The spaces between the great columns could have allowed the presence of a whole army, let alone our tiny company of ten. It would also be frighteningly easy to get lost down here; the sameness of the columns destroyed my sense of direction. Front seemed behind, left was right, and I was completely lost. However, somehow, although I never was quite able to discern how, Gandalf knew where he was leading us. Eventually, we came upon a doorway leading to a room with the first natural light we had seen in days.

Gimli let out a great cry and rushed towards the door, leaving the rest of us blinking in the dust kicked up by the Dwarf's speed. Gandalf called after him, but Gimli paid the Wizard no mind. Seconds later, we heard why.

"NO!" I had hoped never to hear that word, in such a tone, from the Dwarf's mouth again. However, it seemed the mines were not through throwing tragedy at him, as another anguished cry echoed from the room. "No!" The rest of us quickly followed him inside, wondering what could have distressed him so as he began to sob quietly. In the very center of the room stood a white coffin-shaped cairn, and I knew immediately that this was what Gimli reacted to. Gandalf thought the same,

"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." Gimili's helmeted head clunked against the cairn as his cries increased in volume and agony. "It's as I feared." Gandalf glanced around, seeming immune to the cries of the Dwarf. Beside the cairn lay the skeleton of another Dwarf, a huge book held in its hands. The Wizard handed his great hat and staff to Pippin and gently lifted the book into his hands. He blew dust and dirt off the cover and opened it; nearly half the book fell out as he did. I felt stirrings of warning in my very bones as Legolas glanced over at me and Aragorn, who had remained behind the others.

"We must move on," he whispered to us. I couldn't agree more. Staying in one place was dangerous down here. The chances of being found increased greatly. "We cannot linger." Indeed not! I thought, trying hard not to scoff. We were in great danger here, more so than anywhere else. I could feel it.

"They have taken the bridge," Gandalf's voice interrupted my musings. The light in the room seemed to dim as a sense of doom came upon all of us. "And the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes." I glanced back, shifting so my back was not to the door through which we had entered. "Drums, drums in the deep." He flipped the page after giving all of us a warning glance before continuing, "We cannot get out. A Shadow moves in the dark." The doom came closer, closer. I grew more and more anxious. "We cannot get out. They are coming." Silence reigned for a moment as fear built in everyone's face. I turned to face to door completely and felt Legolas do the same; as we did, a loud clatter filled the silence. I refused to move, keeping my eyes on the door as something fell behind me, clanging and banging its way down a great distance.

We were betrayed. That noise had told everything our exact location; we could expect attack at any moment. I slid my dagger out of its sheath as I heard Gandalf roar behind me, "Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!" I thought that was a little harsh, but my comment was cut short as a low hum came from the ground below me. Drums. I could feel the reverberation of them through the very rock beneath me; it wouldn't be long before the others could hear them. I was right.

Slowly, the drums increased in tempo and volume, and the others began to look around them as though they could see the source through the miles of rock that separated them from us. I kept my gaze on the door, my ears perked for any sound other than the drums. It wasn't long before I began to hear the echoes of screeches from the city beyond the doorway. Before anyone else heard them, I heard Sam gasp out, "Frodo!" and the sound of a sword being partially drawn. Legolas gripped my arm tightly and followed my eyes to the door.

"Orcs!" By now the shrieks were plainly audible and I was no longer the only one able to hear them. Boromir raced towards the doors and stared out into the gloom beyond; foolish, as arrows slammed into the wood beside his head as a roar not like the others echoed through the great city. Aragorn pushed the Hobbits back with a cry of, "Get back!" They moved, and he added, "Stay close to Gandalf!" before rushing to help Boromir bar the doors.

Legolas and I looked around for anything that could be used to hold the doors closed; several Dwarven battle axes lying by the door gave me an idea. "Legolas!" He glanced over at me and I pointed to the axes. He got the idea immediately and grabbed one of them, tossing it to the waiting Boromir. I grabbed a second and threw it carefully to Aragorn as Boromir braced the first against the doors. Once they were as secure as we could make them, Boromir turned to Aragorn; only by my proximity to them did I catch what he said.

"They have a cave troll." Judging by his tone and expression, a cave troll was not something he really wanted to see or deal with. After hearing another eerie roar from beyond, I had to agree. I did not want to fight such a creature; it ran too great a risk of me being forced to reveal my nature. That was simply too dangerous to contemplate. I chose to ignore the possibility as our small company drew swords or bows and prepared to welcome our guests.

The doors began to rattle as a horde of "orcs" as Legolas had called them pounded against them. I slid into a defensive stance, holding my dagger across one forearm, ready to be slashed out against any opponent. The pounding increased; an axe forced its way through the ancient wood of the only barrier between us and them. Through that hole, I could see the disgusting faces of our enemies; one of them pointed an arrow through but was shot down by Legolas before it could release. Another followed, taken down by Aragorn. Behind me, I heard Gimli cry out, "Let them come! There is still one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!" As though they were waiting for that challenge, the great horde of Orcs broke through the doors. The battle had begun.

I wasn't able to see what the others were doing. The instant the wave of them hit, I was far too focused on fighting and keeping myself and anyone behind me alive to notice. I heard Aragorn yell behind me, and Boromir, and Gimli. By the feeling I had close to my back, I knew Legolas was still close, but we had no time for anything but fighting. For a time, I felt we may be able to handle them. Then I heard the roar of the cave troll, far too close for my liking.

An Orc entered, holding a thick chain, using it to guide a creature nearly double and a half my height. And I was not exactly small then, as I am not exactly small now. It slammed its way past the doors, throwing rocks the size of an entire Hobbit at us. I got a good look at it, and truly, truly, wished I hadn't.

Huge, monstrous, and very, very angry, the cave troll burst into our little battle, completely turning the tide. An Elven arrow shot past my head, hitting the troll in its shoulder; it simply looked at it before swinging a huge battle hammer down. I leaped forwards, barely escaping in time, and heard Sam yell behind me as he did the same. I saw the other three Hobbits hide behind a pillar. Then I threw myself against a trio of Orcs, keeping them from reaching the Hobbits. Frodo gave me a grateful glance; I spared him a nod before turning to see Legolas shoot two arrows into the troll. Like before, they didn't' really hurt it, only annoy it.

I turned to see where the Elf had gotten to- the tide of the battle had pulled him from my side- and saw him facing the troll on his own. The monster had dropped its hammer and was now using the chain around its neck as a whip of sorts. I yelled a warning as it whipped it at Legolas; he ducked and just avoided it. The troll did it again, but this time it got stuck in a pillar by the Elf's side. I moved closer while it was distracted by trying to free itself. Legolas leaped astride its shoulders and aimed an arrow at the base of its skull. The troll roared and, snapping the chain, thrashed around wildly. Legolas, displaying the unfair balance of his kind, leaped to the ground, landing right next to me.

"Nice," I told him, grinning. He nodded back before lashing out with a knife he'd pulled from the scabbards on his back. I heard a gurgle behind me and turned to see an Orc falling dead. "Thanks for that," I managed weakly. This time, he was the one who grinned; we both then turned our attention back to the troll. It had retrieved its hammer and was sniffing around a pillar. I saw Frodo sneak around it and was about to shout a warning; but the troll got to him first. He screamed and yelled Aragorn's name.

The warrior leaped to the Ring-bearer's side as Merry and Pippin threw rocks at it. The rocks only served to annoy it, though, and it swatted the Man away as though he were only an annoying fly. Aragorn hit the wall and fell, unmoving to the ground. "Aragorn!" Frodo cried again, rushing to the Man's side. I moved to try and help him, but Orcs got in my way. I slashed at them, forced to watch helplessly as the troll shoved Frodo back against the wall then skewer him with the spear it had taken from Aragorn. "Oh, no, oh no you don't!" I snarled, done playing.

I felt the power rise in me, flowing into the blade of my dagger; I had made it specifically for this purpose. The blade grew warm, then hot, then it began to glow with a fierce orange light. The Orcs attacking me fell back in fear at the sight of it; I had to laugh. So, the things were frightened of fire. I would have to remember that. From then on, they fell before me with little to no fight. Before long, I was able to rush to Frodo's side, ignoring the death of the cave troll behind me. "Frodo," I whispered as Sam shook him, trying to wake him. The troll crashed to the ground behind me and the others raced to join me. Aragorn gently rolled him over; we all stared in shock when Frodo gasped for air.

"I'm all right," the Ring-bearer claimed. "I'm not hurt." I stared at him, about to smack up upside the head for frightening me.

"You should be dead," Aragorn murmured. "That spear would have skewered a wild boar." Frodo just looked at him as Gandalf spoke.

"I think there's more to this Hobbit than meets the eye," he said, amusement dancing in his eyes. Frodo nodded, pulling his shirt open just a little ways, revealing the secret.

"Mithril," Gimli muttered in awe. "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins."

"I could have lived with knowing that was there earlier, Master Hobbit," I muttered, giving him a darkly amused look. Legolas patted me on the shoulder; I glared at him, but the sound of approaching enemies stopped whatever comment I may have made. Gandalf turned to look out then turned back to us. We all waited, fearfully, wondering what this place could throw at us next. But Gandalf did not tell us to fight. Instead, he told us to run.

"To the Bridge of Khazad-dūm."


	8. Demons

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Seven: Demons<p>

At Gandalf's word, we rushed from the room, following the Wizard, as he was the only one who had any idea of where he was going. As we ran, I could hear the screams of yet more Orcs as they streamed out of previously invisible pockets and secret hiding places. I yelled back at them, not realizing my power had changed my voice into more of a growl. Legolas glanced at me, confused, but I ignored him. We raced through the great city, no longer careful of footing, or of being quiet. All we wanted was to outrun the creatures chasing us.

That was a dream. There was no way we were outrunning them. The things streamed like ants from a disturbed hill, more than I had thought possible. Where are they coming from, I thought, but we had no more time for thought, nor room to run. We were truly surrounded. I snarled as the Orcs came closer to us, and a couple of them shrank back from me; but more of them hissed back. They were not nearly intimidated enough, the non-rational, animalistic side of me thought. The other side said that I couldn't risk intimidating them as much as I should. It would reveal too much. That was a risk I could not, would not, take.

Gimli yelled at the top of his lungs, and I could have sworn the creatures laughed at him, if it were possible for them to laugh. I would have laughed at him, had I still had the breath to. Fortunately, perhaps, for him, I did not, and the creatures did not seem capable of laughter. As it was, they were still coming closer, and it was simply not possible for us to defeat them all.

Then I felt it.

A stirring of great power, of great evil, came across the open spaces to bombard my senses until I could feel naught else. And it grew ever stronger the longer I sensed it, but before it could overwhelm me utterly, I heard it. A growl, dragon-like and yet utterly foreign to me, sounded from behind our group. A hallway, previously dark, glowed with an unearthly golden-orange light that carried with it the tangy, metallic scent of evil. I smelled also sulfur, and smoke, and knew we were, again, no match for this new monster.

The Orcs surrounding us obviously thought the same, as they started screaming and fleeing back the same way they had appeared. Gimli, thinking this was a good thing, laughed until I put a hand on his shoulder. "This is no time for laughter, Master Dwarf," I told him softly. He glared up at me, about to speak, but Boromir beat him to it as the great hall cleared of Orcs.

"What is this new devilry?" His voice was low, full of fear. Wise man, I thought. Fear will serve you well now. But I did not speak, for I knew not what it was we were facing.

Gandalf did, however, "A Balrog." He was silent for a moment, his face awash in the glow coming from the Balrog. "A demon of the ancient world." I felt its presence grow stronger and began to silently beg Gandalf to save his explanation for later and simply order us to flee. "This foe is beyond any of you… Run!" Not needing to be told a second time, I launched into a full-out sprint, but the oppressive sense of the Evil did not dissipate, no matter how fast I ran. I spared a glance over my shoulder as I came to a stop at another doorway, allowing Boromir to shoot past me. Aragorn followed, then the Hobbits. Legolas came up after them; I rushed through the door after him when I heard Boromir give a surprised shout.

I saw Legolas grab the Man just in time and pull him away from where the stairs ended abruptly, with no railing to save one from a nasty, deadly fall. Behind them, the Hobbits slammed to a halt one by one; I was amazed they didn't knock each other into the abyss before them. Behind me, I heard Aragorn and Gandalf have a brief argument, although Aragorn did not speak.

"Lead them on, Aragorn! The Bridge is near!" I heard a small scuffle then Gandalf continued, "Do as I say! Swords are no more use here!" I could agree with that. A Balrog, if I remembered the legends correctly, looked at humans with swords as we looked at tiny bugs with itty stingers. Little to no threat, and so easily annihilated. Even I was no match for such a creature, even if I chose to take on the form of my parents. As a dragon, I stood more of a chance, but even then… it wasn't enough for me to even have the desire to try. I followed Aragorn and Gandalf as they led us down the unprotected stairs as the Evil being behind us drew ever nearer.

Legolas, as was becoming his custom, stayed near me, but not next to me. I was grateful for the distance, as I could still feel the power of my people running rampant through my veins; the Elf would no doubt be able to sense it, and that could be problematic. I was still hoping to keep my true nature secret for as long as possible.

So, when we came upon a place in the stairs where they had fallen away, leaving an opening just wide enough for someone to jump across, I started cursing wildly in my head. This was bad. This was very, very bad. Legolas leaped across first, and, mostly to avoid having to fly across instead of leap, I launched myself after him, landing a stair or two beyond. At the same time, we both turned to face the remaining eight on the stairs above us.

Legolas waved to them, calling, "Gandalf!" I saw the ground about to break beneath him, and cried a warning just in time. The Wizard leaped across the gap, and a few blocks of stone fell from where he had been and a hail of arrows began. I growled, "Oh, that's helpful…" while glaring in the direction of any Orc I was able to see. After Gandalf jumped, Boromir called for Merry and Pippin; with a great cry, he carried them across the gap as the stairs broke beneath them. I grabbed the Hobbits from him, allowing the Man a second to regain his balance.

Across from us, Aragorn grabbed Sam and hurled him across the gap; Boromir caught him before setting him down behind the rest of us as Gimli stubbornly stated, "Nobody tosses a Dwarf," and leaped. He almost made it, and most likely would have fallen if Legolas had not grabbed his beard despite the Dwarf's growl of, "Not the beard!" I would have laughed, but the stairs Gimli had occupied were now falling away, leaving a space far too great for anyone to cross; Aragorn and Frodo were still on the stairs above us.

Just as I was thinking I would be forced to fly across and carry them, boulders fell from the ceiling, crashing through the stairs. I froze, watching Aragorn and Frodo along with the others as we waited to see if they could cross. The tower of rock swayed slightly, and I decided if they fell, I would leap to get them; if not, I would be safe. "Lean forward!" Aragorn cried as I made my decision; I looked up to see that he and Frodo were putting their weight straight towards the rest of us, and the rock was falling in that direction. Seconds later, the tower crashed into our section of stair, throwing the two left into the waiting arms of Boromir, myself, and Legolas. As soon as we were all safe, Gandalf led the way down the remainder of the stairs leading to the Bridge of Khazad-dūm.

"Onto the Bridge," he cried, waving us on as fires leaped up around us. The Balrog was almost upon us. We were not going to outrun it. "Fly!" Legolas led the way across the bridge, and I followed him. Bridges held no concern for me, but it was odd crossing one underground over a cavern too deep to even imagine a bottom. Once across, I glanced back to see if the others were going to make it safely. Everyone but Gandalf had; the Wizard had stopped halfway across, facing a creature of shadow and fame.

The Balrog.

"Gandalf!" I heard Frodo cry as he tried to run back on to the Bridge. Boromir caught him, thankfully, and gently pushed him back as Gandalf spoke to the Balrog.

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor!" he yelled as the Balrog slashed at the air above him with a sword of fire. "The Dark Fire will not avail you! Flame of Udūn!" A shield of blue fire appeared before Gandalf just in time, as the Balrog attacked him; a shower of blue and red sparks flew from the meeting of the Fires. The Balrog fell back a little, its sword disappearing. Gandalf brought his sword and staff together, and I felt his power gathering. He was stronger than I'd expected, but not strong enough; I feared for him as he shouted in a booming voice, "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" The power I felt flew into the rock as he slammed his staff down. But it wasn't going to save him.

The Balrog took a step forward, but the Bridge began to crack under its weight. I allowed myself a shred of hope as the stone crumbled and the demon fell along with tons of stone. Silently I willed Gandalf to move while it was distracted by falling; he did not. I felt a cry building in my throat as he finally turned to come back to us. His face was exhausted, haggard, and completely taken by surprise when the Balrog's whip of fire wrapped around his ankle and pulled him over the edge of the broken bridge. Frodo screamed, a long, agonized wail, and tried, once again, race to where Gandalf now clung by the barest tips of his fingers.

He strained for a moment, as though trying to pull himself back up; I saw it the second he gave up the effort. "Gandalf!" I cried, as well, my body moving on its own, trying to reach the Wizard. I didn't get far, as someone grabbed me around the waist and held me still. I wanted to fight the hold, but the shock of what I knew was about to come had me frozen.

"Fly, you fools," came the barest whisper from our unspoken leader before he released his hold on the bridge with a grunt. Then he was gone, and Frodo was screaming incoherently in his grief. Boromir picked him up like a child and ran for the stairs, calling to Aragorn. The arms around me pulled me along as well; I moved dumbly, without thought. The shock of it was too much. I could have saved him! If only I wasn't a thrice-blasted coward, I could have saved him! Rage at myself, combined with the grief, made me incapable of moving on my own. Whoever it was that was holding me was the only thing keeping me from collapsing under the weight of my guilt and my grief.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, hoping Gandalf's memory could hear me. "I'm so sorry." I kept repeating that over and over, unable to think of anything but. I allowed myself to be dragged along, stumbling after the person holding my wrist in a gentle, but firm, grip. It felt like ages later, but was certainly only minutes, before we finally found our way out of the Mines of Moria; I should have been able to feel great joy at finally being able to breathe the aboveground air. Now, my mind could barely recognize it as anything different. "Fly…" I whispered, repeating Gandalf's last order to us. "Fly…" If only I could. Now, more than ever, it was imperative that the others not discover what I was. If they knew I could have saved their leader, their friend, and didn't… I didn't want to see their faces, the blame that would lie in them if they knew.

I was pulled out of the way of the grieving Hobbits and down a gentle, snow-covered hill. My eyes were dry; my grief was past tears. "Rianadra…" That voice… Legolas. I tried to pull myself out of the tailspin but could not. He seemed to know that; gently, he pulled me against him and held me there. My knees gave out at the sudden appearance of comfort and he lowered both of us to the ground. My arms wrapped around his waist without my telling them to, my face burrowed in his chest as dry sobs overtook me. "Rianadra, listen to me." I did, but couldn't still the sobs. "This was not your doing. You have nothing to be sorry for." That brought the tears out. If only he knew. I had so much to be sorry for.

Legolas just held on to me, supporting me as I finally cried. I tried to make it stop, knowing we had not the time for this, but it was impossible. The floodgates were open, and nothing was closing them now. All I heard was his voice, speaking a language that could only be Elvish; I wished I knew what he was saying, but… For now, it was enough to be held and to be allowed to cry for the first time in a terribly long time.

Perhaps… No. This was nothing but friendship. It had to be. Anything other than friendship would destroy us both. Only friends. Only friends.


	9. Edge of a Knife

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Eight: Edge of a Knife<p>

"Legolas!" I felt the Elf start slightly when Aragorn roughly broke the silence. "Get them up." He sighed, and I felt his chin rest on the top of my head for an instant. I relished in the feeling of his protection for a moment longer before pulling back and looking up at him. His eyes were distant, and I could tell that he had taken as much comfort from that embrace, short as it was, as I had. Dimly, I heard Boromir argue with Aragorn for a moment,

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!"

"By nightfall, these hills will be swarming with Orcs. We must reach the Woods of Lothlorien." During this, Legolas and I helped each other to our feet and were moving to get the grief-stricken Hobbits to their feet. "Come, Boromir, Legolas. Gimli, Riana, get them up." I nodded once and gently pulled Merry up.

"Come, Meriadoc. We may grieve later, at our leisure. For now, we must do as Gandalf ordered us, and fly." He nodded, wiping his tears away. I smiled and hugged him around the shoulders for a moment. Legolas was watching me closely as the others slowly collected themselves.

"Wise words, Lady Rianadra," I heard the Elf whisper to me as we set out. "Perhaps they will help us all." His hand brushed my cheek in a brief, tender gesture; I knew then that things would never be quite the same between us. Only friends, I reminded myself. I couldn't allow things to go farther than that. Only friends.

Trying to shake the feelings the Elf somehow stirred in me, I watched Aragorn as he fetched Frodo back to the rest of the group. Then we set out- slowly, as though we were in great pain, but we moved. Legolas returned to what seemed to be his post by my side as we began, and for once, I half-wished he could go elsewhere. I needed to sort my feelings out, about him and about Gandalf, before I could feel as comfortable around him as I had before. Luckily, our silences now were companionable, like before; I allowed myself to breathe again.

We travelled swiftly. Aragorn was determined to reach these "Woods of Lothlorien" before nightfall, and so he pushed us as hard as he dared. We barely stopped for food, and when we did, it was just long enough to grab something out of your pack, shove it in your mouth, and keep going. I understood the Man's rush, but I thought it to be a bit hard on the Hobbits. The poor things did not seem as accustomed to rough, fast travel as the rest of us. Aragorn seemed to have forgotten that, or thought that reaching Lothlorien was more important.

But, because of his hurry, we reached the edge of the woods with plenty of daylight left. The forest itself vaguely reminded me of Mirkwood, only brighter and with more space between the trees. Cri would have loved it here; the thought of my missing baby brother almost brought me to tears again. This time, though, I was able to fight them back. The time for tears was over. This was a time for strength.

As we entered the woods, I forced myself to listen to the conversations around me in the hope of getting thoughts of Cri out of my head. Gimli was speaking to the Hobbits, "They say a great sorceress lives in these woods. An Elf-Witch, of terrible power." I had to grin at this. He was being remarkably over-dramatic, but the four Hobbits seemed to appreciate it. "All who look upon her fall under her spell…" he trailed off, and I saw Frodo suddenly look around him as though he was looking for something. Meanwhile, Gimli continued his tale, "… and are never seen again!" His chest puffed out as he added, "Well, here's one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily! I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!" Famous last words, I thought.

As though the universe had heard me that was the instant we came under attack. Suddenly, surrounding us were Elves, blonde and fair like Legolas, but each pointing a notched arrow at one of our company. Two were pointing directly at Gimli's face; the Dwarf had gone white beneath his normally ruddy complexion. Were the situation not so dire, I would have been on the ground laughing. As it was, I kept an eye on the arrow pointed at my throat and listened as the only unarmed Elf poked fun at Gimli's statement.

"The Dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark." Gimli growled, and Aragorn placed a warning hand on his shoulder before speaking to the unarmed Elf.

"Haldir o Lórien. Henio anīron, boe amen i dulu līn. Boe ammen veriad līn." Of course Aragorn would be fluent in Elvish. The other Elf nodded in return before turning to Legolas.

"Mae govannen, Legolas Thrandullion." I blinked. These Elves knew Legolas? Perhaps not, as I had no idea what had been spoken before I caught Legolas' name. Legolas bowed next to me, speaking swift Elvish in response.

"Govannas vīn gwenne, le, Haldir o Lórien." I assumed this was not a form of insult among Elves, and that we were being welcomed. I hoped so, at least. Otherwise, we were in trouble. Apparently, Gimli thought the same,

"Aragorn!" He sounded nervous, frightened even. "These woods are perilous. We should go back." Haldir, or at least that was what I assumed to be the name of the unarmed Elf, gave him a dirty look before addressing Aragorn again.

"You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back." His piercing eyes settled then on Frodo. "Come," he continued, "she is waiting." The other Elves lowered their bows as Haldir moved on, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Legolas glanced at me; I raised an eyebrow back at him.

"You need to tell me what he said to you later," I told him before following Haldir. Legolas blinked at me as I passed him then followed without a word.

Haldir led us deep into the woods, to a place where the trees grew to unnatural sizes. Staircases ran around the great trunks of these trees, and we were led up one of them. Around us was a city, supported by and settled in the trees themselves. As I had been amazed by the craftsmanship of the Dwarf city, so I was astounded by the beauty of the Elven city.

Having finally reached the top of the staircase, Haldir left us there to wait for the "Lady of the Wood." I stood back some, fearing she could sense that I was not what I claimed to be. Legolas stood with me, although not directly next to me as was usually his custom. We were not kept waiting long.

Silver light shone above us as two Elves appeared. Slowly, gracefully, they descended to a little above our level and stopped. The entirety of our company either stared at the pair or lowered their eyes from the power of them. I lowered my head, not entirely in reverence. I knew now that the Lady knew of me. I could only pray she did not reveal me to the others. And so I kept my head down.

"Nine there are here, the number who left Rivendell. But where is Gandalf? I have much desire to speak with him." Not one of our company had the strength to answer. Finally, it was the woman who spoke.

"He has fallen into Shadow." Guilt crashed down upon me again; it took all my strength to stay where I was and not try to flee from it. "The Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all." She was silent for a moment then went on, "Yet hope remains, while the Company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight, you will sleep safely." By some compulsion, I raised my eyes to hers. Her voice echoed through my mind.

"Do not fear so, Rianadra of the Mountains. For it may not yet come to pass." I dropped my gaze again, my breath caught in my throat. She knew my title, and what I was. And yet… I had heard no blame in her voice. She knew my fear, and had warned me against it. Slowly, I looked up at her again and nodded my thanks. She smiled gently at me, and I was struck for the first time of her awesome beauty. Unrivaled by anything I had seen thus far, she stood in the glory of her kind. Could I even begin to compare with that?

Worried by that sudden thought, I followed the example of the others in the Company, bowing to the pair of Elves before going back the way we came. Another woodland Elf stood by the bottom of the staircase, waiting for us. "Come, my lady has prepared a place for you." I moved to follow him, but a young female Elf caught my arm.

"Come with me, my lady." When I glanced at the retreating backs of my companions, she smiled. "You will be able to join them soon, my lady. But my lady might wish to bathe separately." That caught my attention. Bathing? Getting clean again? Oh, it was too good to be true. I followed the young Elf without question after that.

She led me to another level and a small bathhouse. Once inside, she directed me to a room with a private bath. I entered, startled to find that the tub was already filled to the brim with steaming water. Another Elf from the one that had brought me here entered the room behind me. "There are cleaning cloths and oils here, my lady," she said serenely. "Drying cloths are here, and someone will deliver clean clothes to you whilst you bathe." I smiled at her and nodded my thanks. She bowed slightly and left me alone.

Slowly I stripped out of my clothes, which I hadn't realized were stiff with grime and really did not smell all that good. My handmade tunic went first, followed by my boots and pants until I stood in nothing but my loincloth and breastband, both also handmade. Taking a deep breath, I removed those as well and nearly melted into the tub. I knew I was going to take far longer than necessary bathing, but I had not had the luxury of a hot bath in far too long.

A long time later, I emerged from the tub completely clean. My skin was now several shades paler without the layers of dirt and grit that had covered it; my hair lighter, finer, and softer than it had felt in years, falling nearly to my hips in a silver waterfall. I took my time drying off, as well, luxuriating in the feel of clean skin and hair. Finally, though, I emerged from the room to find clothing spread on a small table that could only be meant for me.

I put my own breastband and loincloth back on, not wanting to borrow anyone else's, before turning my attention to the clothing provided. Pants of a deep grey tucked into my black boots; a shirt of grey-purple was next, followed by a shirt of mail that fell to my mid-thighs and just above my elbows. Over that was a vest of leather and a belt with loops on it to hold a sword or dagger. I chose to leave those empty for now, opting instead to slip my dagger to my upper thigh under my shirt. The Elves had thoughtfully provided a sheath and belts to make such an arrangement work, and before long, I was prepared to rejoin my companions.

As I stepped out of the bathhouse, the first thing I heard was music, sad and aching, and sorrowfully familiar. I asked a nearby Elf what it was, and she gave me a sad smile. "A lament for your companion Gandalf, my lady." My heart broke a little more, and she placed a hand on my arm. "Come, lady, let me guide you back to your companions."


	10. Secrets

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Nine: Secrets<p>

By the time I returned to join the rest of the Company, they were all together in the area the Lady had set aside for us. The Hobbits huddled together, Frodo a little apart from the rest, still grieving for Gandalf. Boromir and Aragorn were elsewhere, as was Gimli. Legolas stood to the side, a mug sitting forgotten in his hand. His eyes were distant, and I wasn't sure if he even saw me or just saw straight through me. Or perhaps he simply didn't recognize me. I barely recognized myself when I looked in the mirror.

No matter.

I moved to stand next to him, and only then did he glance at me and actually see me. When he did, he did a bit of a double take that involved staring then a lot of blinking then staring again. I chuckled and told him, "It's still me, Legolas. Only, I'm clean now." That got a small smile out of him. I mentally congratulated myself before turning to look out across the forest city with him. "This place is beautiful. Reminds me in a way of the forest… Cri's home." My voice caught on my brother's name, but a quick clearing of my throat got me moving on. He placed his hand on my arm briefly; I appreciated the gesture more than he was aware, I thought. "He would like you, you know," I said after a few moments of companionable silence.

"You think so?" He glanced at me with his eyebrow raised. I nodded, sitting on a small bench next to us.

"I know so. I couldn't really say what it is about you that he would like, but I know he would. I only hope you get the chance to meet him." I closed my eyes, relishing in the peace and security this place offered me.

"What happened?" I sat up and blinked at the Elf for a moment.

"What?"

"What happened? To make him leave you, I mean. You said he is younger than you?" Ah, that's what he meant.

"Yes, he is several years younger than me," and that was the understatement of the age. Cri was sixty or so years younger than me, but to our kind, that may as well be only a few years. Only among Men would it be a long time. "And as to what happened… He didn't leave. Or at least, I do not think he did. I…" I couldn't say it. I didn't know what had become of my baby brother, but I could not bring myself to actually say it out loud. I turned my head away from Legolas, biting my lip.

"You do not know." As was becoming usual, it wasn't a question. Somehow, he knew. I barely managed a chin dip that only vaguely resembled a nod. He was silent for a time; then he moved to sit next to me on the bench. "Rianadra… It was not your fault. Whatever happened that day, it was not your fault." I almost scoffed, but kept it at bay. Barely. That was easy for him to say… He wasn't there when the Orcs- for I knew now what they were- attacked. He didn't know that I turned my back on my brother. For only a split second, but it was long enough for me to lose him, possibly forever. His hand on mine startled me out of my bitter thoughts. "Do not dwell on it now. You will find him again." I wished I could share his certainty, but nothing in my life was certain right now.

"I can only hope to share your certainty, Legolas," I whispered in response. He sighed softly, wrapping his free arm around my shoulders.

"It is not just your brother that bothers you tonight, is it?"

"How do you know these things, Elf?" He smiled at me and pulled my head around so I could not look away from him.

"You are easier to read than most, in some respects. In others, you may as well be a language I have never had the chance to look at, let alone learn. I would like to learn the language that is Rianadra, if she would let me." I blinked. Then again.

"Some things are kept hidden not by my own choice. Others I may speak of freely." He nodded. "But I suppose I will answer your first question. No, my brother is not the only thing on my mind tonight. I cannot help but think of Gandalf." Legolas sighed again and looked up at the foliage above us.

"I think of him, too, Rianadra. But there is nothing we could have done to save him. Or at least, that is what I must tell myself, for otherwise I may go mad," he said softly, one hand toying absentmindedly with my fingers. I had to smile at the un-elf-like motions; luckily he didn't see it.

"Thank you." I could say nothing else to that. He was right. Thinking of all the possible what-if's and perhapses would drive me mad. Perhaps I could have pulled Gandalf back from the Bridge, but it was not me who pulled him over. It was not my fault. After that, we did not speak much, simply enjoying the silence and each other's company.

Time passed, and still neither I nor my Elven companion spoke, until finally, he stirred. "Would you care to take a walk with me, lady Rianadra?" I blinked at him as he rose from our comfortable position on the bench to standing before me, one hand held out.

"I think I would," I answered him after a second's thought. I gripped his hand and allowed him to pull me off the bench. "Where would you like to go?" He smiled at me and tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow; we walked off like that, not noticing a certain red-headed Dwarf hiding in the shadows until he whistled at us. Then I just turned to glare at him; of course, that did no good whatsoever, as he only started laughing. I heard Legolas give a long-suffering sigh before he tugged me off and away from Gimli's teasing. We were silent for a time, before I felt the urge to ask him why he had decided to do this now. "Legolas?"

"Hm?"

"Was there any specific reason you decided to take a walk now?" He smiled.

"Perhaps, my lady, perhaps." He truly did have a sense of humor.

"Are you going to tell me?" If he could play that game, then by the skies, so could I! He just shook his head. I grumbled; he chuckled quietly in my ear. "You are in so much trouble when we get wherever you're taking me." His chuckle only grew in volume at that. "Why is everyone laughing at me tonight?" Legolas, perhaps wisely, chose not to answer. Instead, he simply tugged me in a new direction every few minutes until we were standing on a balcony that overlooked the entirety of the Elven city. There, he pulled me to the very edge of the balcony and we both looked out. We were silent for a time, then my curiosity overwhelmed me again. "Are you going to tell me now why we came out here, aside from a splendid view?" He patted my head once before leaning on the railing of the balcony.

"You told me to tell you what it was Haldir said to me when we first entered the forest. I did not wish to discuss it in front of the others, as only Aragorn knows what he was referring to." He glanced at me then, an odd expression on his face. "And I thought, perhaps, an exchange would be better. Your story, in its entirety, for mine." I stared at him. Now I really wanted to know what it was Haldir had said, if he felt that my story would be an even exchange. I was about to agree when he added, "And, please, Rianadra, do not feel the need to leave anything out. Whatever you have to say, I will not judge you." Shell-shocked, I stared at him yet again.

"Very well. Who shall go first?" I hoped he wouldn't ask me to tell first; some luck still attended me, as he said,

"I shall. Thus so far, only Aragorn knows me for who I really am, Rianadra. Aragorn, and the Elves here." I nodded, waiting for him to continue. He obliged me a moment later, "Haldir used a name most do not use, Thrandullion. It means, son of Thranduil." My breath caught at that name. I knew that name.

"The King of the Woodland Realm. Mirkwood." He nodded, surprised.

"Yes. That is my father." I could to naught but stare at him for a moment.

"You are… royalty?" My voice was barely more than a whisper, but his Elvish hearing caught it.

"In a sense. My people do not have the same measures for such things as Men, for example." That was certainly true. "But what I wish to know is: how do you come to know that name?" I sighed. His secret was certainly worth my entire story.

"My story is long, Legolas. You may wish to make yourself comfortable." He smiled and sat down, leaning back against the railing, his pale blonde hair all but glowing in the moonlight. I settled across from him, leaning back on my elbows. "I know the name of your father because I spent most of my childhood in the deepest recesses of Mirkwood. It is impossible to reside in that realm without hearing the name of its King."

"How… You said you were from mountains?" he asked me softly, blue eyes fixed on my face.

"I am… This is difficult to speak of, you must understand. My people rarely come out and say what we are. There is a long history of fear and hatred directed towards us from the other races. In fact, it may be better for me to show you than to tell you." At his confused glance, I clarified, "Show you what I am, Legolas. For I am neither mortal nor immortal, but something in between." He nodded, watching me closely as I rose slowly to my feet. I was nervous, almost terrified. No one aside from Cri had ever seen my wings, or tail. I was frightened of showing him, for several reasons. But I forced that fear down; it would not serve me here as it had before.

Slowly, almost painfully, I relaxed the power that kept my wings and tail hidden from view. After a moment, I felt them become solid behind me: my wings stretched out to their fullest span while my tail curled around one of my legs. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see Legolas' expression now. Surely he could not hate me… Surely not!

He did not speak. He could not hate me. He could not. The fear from before came back with a vengeance; I felt my legs begin to tremble as my wings slowly curled around my body. That was when I felt him. Legolas was standing directly in front of me! My eyes snapped open, meeting his the instant they did. And I did not see anything I had expected from him. Disgust, fear, hatred, blame. Any of those I would not have been surprised to see. But none of those were what I saw.

Awe. He was staring at me with awe written all over his face, his wide eyes, and slightly open mouth. I stared back at him. "Rianadra…" Even his voice was filled with something akin to reverence. "This… You… There are no words to express how…" He seemed incapable of finishing a thought; I never thought I would see the day, but I refused to call him on it. Instead, I went on with my explanation, giving him a moment to collect himself.

"I am of the race known as the dragonlings, distant cousins to the dragons that used to live in the mountains of this world. I was born deep in the Misty Mountains, and there I lived for nearly one hundred years. I remember the majesty of those years, and the feelings of belonging. Of having a family." I paused for a moment; the emotions that threatened to keep me from speaking dissipated after a moment. "I had a family, parents, a brother. But then Men came. Hunters, thinking of us as only animals to be killed. Not for anything useful, but purely for sport. These Men killed my parents, but Cri and I were able to escape. We fled to Mirkwood, where I made a home for us. I raised him, hunted for us, and kept us hidden."

"Why did you leave?" he asked softly, his arm going around my shoulders again, gently brushing my wings. I leaned into his hold without realizing it at first.

"What I now know was the Shadow of the Ring fell over our corner of the forest. It was no longer safe for us. So we left." I slowly sat down, pulling away from him once I noticed where I was. He didn't try to reclaim his hold, opting instead to study my wings. I couldn't fault him for that. I knew they were beautiful.

Slowly, he reached out a hand then caught himself. "May I?" he asked. I nodded and extended one of my wings to meet his hand. It felt strange, but good, to have another's hand on the leathery folds. But I could not let this feeling get too far. Already, the lines of friendship were going gray. Friends. Only friends. Nothing more. I stood abruptly and moved to the balcony rail again.

"It has been long since I had the chance to fly freely among the stars, as I once did in the mountains. Without fear, just the exhilaration. The wind, the sky, the earth so far below me I could hold the trees between my fingers." I could hear the sadness in my voice, and apparently so could Legolas. He joined me against the railing, speaking quietly.

"Perhaps one day you will again, Rianadra. Yes, I know it." He turned to face me, gripping my chin in his gentle fingers. "One day, you will."


	11. Moving On

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Ten: The Journey Continues<p>

A gentle breeze stirring against my long hair woke me the next morning. Sometime after midnight, Legolas and I had rejoined the others, ignoring Gimli's suggestive glances and comments. And neither of us had spoken a word of what transpired while we were gone; eventually the Dwarf grew bored and disappeared. Grateful for his absence, I bade Legolas good night. For the first time in a long while, I slept deeply, with no dreams. And now, instead of cursing the morning, wishing for just a few more minutes of sleep, I rose the instant the wind woke me.

Around me lay the still-sleeping bodies of my companions; I had to smile when I spotted the Hobbits. They were all piled together in a knot of limbs and heads. The smile still on my face, I slipped past them and out into the open air. Or what would have been open air had I not crashed into someone right outside the door.

"Uhf!" I yelped softly as whoever I had rammed into grunted. I glanced up to meet Aragorn's tired blue eyes. "Did you get no sleep last night, my lord Aragorn?" I asked him as soon as I got my breath back. Sheepishly, the Man shook his head slightly.

"I stayed with Boromir, who found no true rest here," he answered me, his voice low. "Do the others still sleep?"

"Yes. And the Hobbits remind me of a pile of puppies in there." Aragorn chuckled softly. I grinned at him. "Go look." He moved past me, peeking into the room; a moment later, he came back out, a tolerantly amused expression on his face.

"Puppies indeed," he told me, shaking his head. "Much as I wish we could let them sleep, we must wake them soon. We have a long way still to go, and I fear what may be on our tail." I nodded.

"Shall I wake them now, or perhaps let them sleep more?" He glanced back in at them then shook his head.

"Let them sleep a little longer. They deserve a good night's safe rest." He offered me his arm then, smiling. "But since you and I are awake, lady Riana, will you join me at breakfast? I believe Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas are already there." I returned his smile with a small one of my own and took his proffered arm.

"I will, my lord Aragorn." We shared a small chuckle as we moved down the hall. A short while later, I smelled breakfast and barely kept myself from drooling. "One thing I will say of Elves: their travel food may not be the greatest fare, but they know how to eat in their own homes." Dinner last night had been fantastic; based on the smell; I could only imagine how wonderful breakfast would be. Aragorn laughed heartily at that, completely in agreement.

"That they do, and I shall certainly enjoy it!" I nodded enthusiastically and followed him into a room full of the kinds of food I had not seen for a frightening number of months. Eggs, all sorts of fruit, bacon, and many other things besides. I knew the Hobbits would be joining us soon: their sense of when food was available never failed to astound me. As it turned out, I was right.

Barely had Aragorn and I joined Boromir, Legolas, and Gimli when I heard the pitter-patter of Hobbit feet rushing towards us. Within seconds, all four of them managed to make their way through the door at the same time. The rest of us stared blankly at them as they picked themselves up off the floor and headed for the food without so much as a, "Good morning." I snorted with laughter, followed by Gimli, then the two Men. Legolas seemed to have just enough Elvish dignity to keep from joining us, but even he had an amused smile on his face. Soon the Hobbits joined us at our table, but not one of them spoke. They were too busy eating, which I decided was probably a good idea. Aragorn had said he wanted to move out as soon as possible.

Very few words were exchanged as we ate. We all seemed to feel a great sense of urgency that made us rush through breakfast- Legolas with a great deal more poise and class than the rest of us. His baffled expression as he watched me shovel food into my mouth so fast I may as well have inhaled it was priceless, and every once in a while I would choke on something as I started to laugh and forgot I had food in my mouth. He then would simply pat me on the back until I could breathe again then return to gawking at my sad lack of table manners. Which would only serve to set me off again and the whole thing would repeat again.

I did eventually finish eating, although it was long after Legolas had finished himself and left to gather his belongings. One of the Lady's guards had come to inform us that she requested out presence before we left Lothlorien; we all needed to gather and be ready to meet her as soon as possible. So, as soon as we were done eating, each person left to gather his or (in my case) her belongings and report. I was close to last, but I still managed to get out before Pippin, who still had a mound of food on his plate when I left. Luckily, I didn't have much to gather, as I had only my dagger and the clothes on my back; I met Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas, and three of the Hobbits outside the rooms where we had slept.

"Pippin's still eating. He probably won't be done until next week sometime," I joked; the others smiled or laughed softly, depending on their natures. Merry just rolled his eyes as the aforementioned Hobbit came rushing up the hallway.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he cried, "There was just so much food!" Pippin literally had stars in his eyes as he thought of the food and required a nudge to get him moving. "Sorry!" he cried one last time as he rushed through gathering everything he had brought with him; luckily, it wasn't much. So it wasn't long before all nine of us were gathered, prepared to meet with the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien.

An Elf met us and led us to where the Lady had requested we meet her: a small clearing by the river where three small Elven boats were moored. The nine of us gathered, waiting with bated breath to see the two again. They did not keep us long, but they did not come alone. Nine other Elves stood behind them, bearing parcels wrapped in gray-green cloth.

The Lord of Lorien stood forward and spoke as the others behind him moved forward, revealing the parcels to be cloaks. Elvish cloaks, I figured. "Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people." His gaze held pride in his people and their craftsmanship. I bowed my head and saw most of the others minus Legolas follow suit. The lady spoke next.

"May these cloaks shield you from unfriendly eyes," she said as the other Elves pinned the cloaks around our shoulders with a small brooch in the shape of a Lorien leaf. Then they stepped back, each picking up a separate burden, these wrapped in silver. Slowly the Lord and Lady moved to stand before Legolas; the first Elf behind them came to stand before the Elf of Mirkwood. "Our gift to you, Legolas: a bow of the Galadhrim, worthy of the skill of our woodland kin," she continued as the Elf handed Legolas a beautifully crafted bow and a quiver full of white-fletched arrows. Legolas bowed deeply before turning the bow over in his hands, an almost childlike glee in his eyes. Next were Merry and Pippin.

The Lord spoke as the two Hobbits were handed their gifts, "These are the daggers of the Noldorin. They have already seen service in war many times before. They will serve you well." Merry drew his eagerly, studying the blade with awe on his face. Pippin took his more hesitantly, obviously unsure whether he appreciated this gift or not. The Lady smiled down at him.

"Fear not, Peregrin Took. You will find your courage," she told him softly. After a moment, he nodded and followed Merry's example. The Lady moved on to Sam, offering him a coil of rope. I wondered what on Earth it could be for, but Sam obviously appreciated it. "Thank you, my Lady," he said reverently before a glint of mischief appeared in his eyes. "But might there be another of those shiny daggers?" The Lady smiled but did not answer, instead moving to stand in front of Gimli. However, she said nothing to him, only allowing him to stare at her. The Dwarf was so obviously smitten I was amazed no one had teased him about it. That would have to change… Then I realized the Lady stood before me now.

"Rianadra of the Mountains, here is my gift to you. Made of a metal only found in the depths of the Misty Mountains, I give you your sword. May she serve you well." My hand reached out to take the blade from the Elf who presented her to me. The sheath was a deep purple, the color of the mountains as I remembered them. I took a moment, fearing to draw it. The hilt was wrapped in silver wire, the crossguard a pair of dragon's wings. A single purple stone sat in the pommel, held there by more silver wire. The Lady watched me for a moment before speaking gently into my mind, "Draw her, Rianadra of the Mountains. Draw her and claim her." I looked up at her, wondering. "She was crafted for you, and for you alone. Make her yours."

Slowly, wonderingly, I drew the sword. The hilt felt perfect in my palm; the blade rang with the sound of bells as she slid free of the sheath. The edge was razor sharp, that I could see, and had a blue-purple hue to the metal. There were also designs etched onto the blade; I squinted, turning the sword so I could see them better. When I did, I nearly dropped it in shock. The markings on my sword were an accurate image of the mountains where was born, the place I would always call home. Slowly, I raised my eyes to the Lady and tried to thank her, but my throat refused to work. I slid the blade home then attached it to my belt, where she hung, perfectly balanced, as though she had always been there. By then, I had found my voice.

"Thank you, my Lady," I whispered, my hand on the hilt. "I name her Narsūl, Firewind." I looked up at the Lady to see her smile gently at me.

"A good name, Rianadra. A very good name." Finally, she turned away from me to the last member of our Company who was to receive a gift.

"And to you, Frodo Baggins, I give the Light of Elendil, our most beloved star." Without speaking, but his gratitude shining in his eyes, Frodo took the small glass vial from the Lady's hand. "May it be a light for you in dark places where all other lights go out." With that, she returned to her husband's side as he addressed the full company again.

"I cannot see far, but I know you go to danger. Be on your guard, keep hope, and be strong." He looked at us, meeting our eyes individually. "Great trials await you, and you must always remember to keep faith and not forget the bonds that hold you together now." He turned away then, followed by the Lady and the gift-bearing Elves, and vanished back into the woods. We remained still and silent for a time before Aragorn turned to us.

"It is time. We must move on."


	12. Hunted

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Eleven: Hunted<p>

**btw, now that i have rediscovered how to do this... :D i don't own any of the LOTR characters... sadly... but Rianadra is mine so no stealing!**

It did not take us long to pull out onto the river: the boats given to us by the Elves had already been stocked and balanced for us. After Aragorn's announcement, all we had to do was figure out who was going with whom and push the boats into the water. Aragorn took Frodo and Sam; Boromir had Merry and Pippin; I went with Legolas and Gimli.

For a long while, no one spoke, simply enjoying the peaceful quiet that had started in Lothlorien. And even when we did start to speak, it was with hushed voices; the majesty of the river made us all feel so small, and we all felt the quiet was not to be marred by voices. The only one who didn't seem to appear as enamored with the river as the rest of us was Legolas. I assumed it was because he was Elf-kind and accustomed to places such as this.

We made good time once we set out from Lorien. The current of the river carried us far faster than we would have moved on our own; we only needed the paddles to keep our direction. The whisper of the water, combined with the warmth from the sun, nearly had me falling asleep several times. I blamed Legolas for keeping me awake longer the night before than either of us should have been up. I made sure he knew it, too. It wasn't long before I started feeling little pebbles knock against my head every time I yawned obnoxiously, although I had to wonder where he was getting them. The sounds of the paddle behind me never wavered, and yet he still managed to get pebbles, aim, and hit me on the back of my head. I decided the next time he hit me, it was war.

I yawned again, this time on purpose; seconds later, something thunked into the back of my head. Grinning, I bent down casually to pick up one of the other projectiles the Elf had so graciously provided me with. I waited for a moment, hoping to catch him off guard, then spun around, careful of the boat's balance, and threw the pebble at him. It hit him square in the forehead; he scowled at me with little heat and bent to get another one himself. I ducked as it came flying at me. It bounced off my back and I heard it clank into Gimli's armor.

"Wha- Hey!" he growled as I turned to throw another rock at Legolas and missed, hitting the Dwarf on the chin. I laughed as he glared at me, Legolas joining in with a quiet chuckle. The Dwarf didn't find anything so funny. "What are you laughing at?" he demanded, which only set me off into a loud howl of laughter. Soon, we could hear calls from the other boats to either be quiet or keep our noise to our own boat. Even the irritable Gimli had to laugh at that. I was about to say something to him when another rock hit me on the cheek.

"Oh, that was not fair!" I told Legolas, giving him my best mock glare. "I wasn't ready!" Legolas just smirked at me before flicking another one my way. This one hit me on the shoulder, as he hadn't really bothered to aim. "You know what, Elf?" Gimli's amused snort had me glaring at him next. "Oh, you think this is funny, do you?" When he did nothing but snicker again, I tossed a pebble in his direction. It clanked off his helmet. "Ha!" Gimli glowered at me from under the brim of his helmet then started to grin evilly. "Oh, no. Oh, no you don't, Dwarf!" Seconds later, I was under a barrage of little rocks from both the Elf and the Dwarf. "What? Two against one? That is not fair!" Obviously, however, they cared not for the unfairness of it and kept it up until they had nothing more to throw at me. Haughtily, I stuck my nose in the air and turned my back on them. I heard Gimli cackle softly behind me, but I deigned to ignore him.

Of course, when I heard the Elf join in softly, I had to turn and see just what it was that they found so amusing. "What are you two giggling at back there?" They both glared at me, as I had known they would. Dwarves and Elves did not giggle. I smiled innocently at them, waiting for an answer.

"Nothing," Gimli finally answered me. I didn't believe him.

"That one," I gestured to Legolas, who was still smirking, "does not laugh _ever_ without good cause. What did you two do?" They both gave me their best "who-me?" impressions and I growled. "Tell me right now or-" Suddenly, a sense of something… wrong… came over me. Immediately, I turned to face the western shore, as though I could see the source of the wrongness by sheer force of will. Crows launched into the air deeper into the forest, and I knew then for sure.

We were being followed. I glanced back at Legolas, unsurprised to see the joking expression gone from his face as he carefully watched the shoreline. He met my eyes a second later, and I could see his sudden wariness in them. "What is it?" I asked him softly; he shook his head. Ah, that's what's got him worried. He doesn't know, I thought. Well, that has me, too. I glanced over at the others, wondering if anyone else had felt it. It didn't seem that no one else had. I glanced back at Legolas, who had returned to surveying the western side, hoping to catch some glimpse of what was following us.

Shortly later, the wrongness disappeared from the air, but we did not return to our game. The knowledge that we were being hunted had driven all playfulness from our minds, leaving only the sense of worry and the need to move quickly behind. None of us spoke again after that.

We journeyed on in stressed, worried silence; the others seemed to have finally caught our mood, as we all began to move faster, hoping to outrun whatever was behind us. Eventually, we all felt the overbearing Shadow fade a little; we breathed a little easier for a time.

Hours passed, and still we remained quiet. The river no longer seemed peaceful, even if the Shadow was gone for now. Every sound was ominous; we all expected attack around every bend. Every time there wasn't one, we grew more restless and wary. Surely they would come sometime, and we were not going to be ready. I could not get myself to relax; my hand stayed near the hilt of my new sword despite knowing that while we were on the water, we were as safe as we could be.

Ahead of me, I heard Aragorn stir Frodo and Sam before him with a whisper. "Look ahead, the Argonath." I looked up as we rounded the next bend in the river, expecting to see an army or something of that kind. What I saw was not what I expected; Aragorn continued as I stared, "Long have I desired to look upon the Kings of old… my kin."

Before us stood two great statues of Men. Each gripped a sword in its right hand, the left outstretched as though in protection. I stared up at them in awe, feeling remarkably small next to the giant stonework. I wondered why they were here, out in the middle of nowhere, but I did not ask. It was not something that needed to be said, not among such great company as these old Kings. I bowed my head as we passed them, vaguely reminded of the ancient power of my people. Perhaps, one day, we would have such a thing built to remind the world we were as much a part of it as the mountains.

We moved past the Argonath, as Aragorn had called it; the river then expanded into a huge lake. In the distance, I could see where the lake fell in a waterfall nearly a mile wide. Our little company moved closer to the waterfall before pulling the boats onto the Western shore. We swiftly got out, glad to be on solid ground again. Sam pulled his pack out of the boat with a clatter, no doubt thinking of making some sort of meal. Aragorn moved off to one side; Legolas came to stand by me.

"I do not like this. We should move on, now, before whatever is behind us has the chance to catch up." I nodded in agreement but doubted Aragorn would agree with us. Legolas didn't share my concerns, as he moved from my side to Aragorn's as the Man told us our next move.

"We shall cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats, and continue on foot," he said firmly. I shuddered. Nightfall was still too far off to make me rest any easier here on the Western shore. Legolas spoke softly to Aragorn, and although I couldn't hear his exact words, I knew he was explaining to the Man what it was we feared. Aragorn didn't agree. "No. Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for the cover of darkness." I growled softly.

"I would rather face the eastern shore than sit like a fish in a barrel, waiting for someone to kill me," I murmured to them, keeping my voice low so as not to frighten the others. Aragorn shook his head, addressing the others,

"We approach Mordor from the North." I heard Gimli's swift intake of breath and barely kept from laughing as he voiced his opinion.

"Oh yes? Just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil, an impassable labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks?" Aragorn stared at him patiently, waiting for the Dwarf to finish. "And after that, it gets even better! Festering, stinking marshland as far as the eye can see!" He was obviously pleased to be pointing out the flaw in Aragorn's plan. At least, until the Man put a stop to that.

"That is our road." We all turned to ogle at him as he added, "I suggest you take some rest, and recover your strength, Master Dwarf." I did laugh then as Gimli glowered at Aragorn and started grumbling about how Dwarves didn't need to recover their strength. Aragorn ignored him, instead issuing orders to the others to gather wood for a fire or to rest while we had a moment to do so. I collapsed to the ground by a boulder, leaned against it, and prepared to take a little catnap. But my plans were cut short when a worried comment from Merry brought everyone to attention again.

"Where's Frodo?"


	13. The UrukHai

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Twelve: The Uruk-Hai<p>

**sadly, i do not own LoTR... but Riana and Cri are mine, so no stealing!**

I looked around wildly for a second or two, not quite comprehending that Frodo wasn't where we had all thought he was. It was like Cri all over again: there one second, gone the next. I wasn't about to lose Frodo the way I had my brother, though. I just could not go through that again. I leaped to my feet and moved to go out into the forest; Legolas caught my arm.

"Boromir is gone, as well," he told me, his voice low. My stomach dropped. That was even worse news; I knew the Man of Gondor was smitten with the Ring. No doubt he would use this time to try and take it from Frodo. I sighed, but it came out as more of a growl.

"We need to find them," I muttered, grabbing Narsūl and heading into the forest with Legolas and Gimli close on my heels. Aragorn had vanished the instant Merry asked where Frodo was; I had no idea where head gone. I could only hope that one of us found the young Ring-bearer, preferably before Boromir managed to take the Ring from him. As I thought that, I heard Boromir's voice cry through the woods.

"You will take the Ring to Sauron!" he yelled, sounding different from normal. The Ring had taken him. "You will betray us! Curse you, curse you, and all the Halflings!" I figured, based on his anger, that Frodo had gotten away from the Man, mostly likely with the Ring still in his possession. Boromir would not be so angry if he had managed to take it. I exchanged concerned glances with Legolas, but before we could say anything, I felt the Shadow from before. This time, however, it was not just a feeling. It was there, a Shadow no longer. Now, it had physical form. I whirled to face my two companions.

"We are under attack!" I cried, my hand flying to the hilt of my sword. She swung free of the sheath with a clear ringing, a battle cry. I turned then to run towards where I felt the Evil most strongly; behind me, I heard Gimli draw his battle axe before two sets of feet pounded after me, one louder than the other. But I could not stop, not now. We still did not know where Frodo was. The chances of him being hurt or found and the Ring taken were too high to risk by moving too slowly.

It wasn't too long before we saw the source of my dark premonition: creatures that looked like Orcs but were larger, faster, and stronger. In my ear, I heard Legolas whisper, "Uruk-Hai, warriors bred from Orcs and Goblins. Be careful, Rianadra." I nodded but had no time to respond, as the Uruks were on us in an instant. The soft twang of a bowstring sounded beside me, and an arrow rushed past my face. Others followed behind it; not for the first time, I was astounded by the Elf's skill. Narsūl whipped gleefully through the air, singing of death to Evil as I sliced, stabbed, and danced my way through the Uruk-Hai.

"Riana!" I heard Gimli cry from behind me and spun on one foot to face an Uruk that had tried to sneak up behind me. My blade swung up just in time to stop its attack, my feet sliding backwards through the leaves as I struggled not to be pushed to the ground. I grunted as Narsūl slid down the thing's blade, slicing through its hand. Blood dripped down my sword, the black blood of the Uruk-Hai. Without giving it a chance to recover from its shock, my blade flashed around, reflecting the bright sunlight, to slice the creature's head clean from its shoulders. I paused for a breath but had no time for more, as there were many Uruks taking the place of the one I had just cut down.

My sword rose again as I dared them to come nearer. More fell around me from both Legolas' arrows and Gimli's axe. The three in front of me were not among them, though; one of them dove at me, its sword raised high. Narsul flew up to stop it, but another came at me from the side. I had no time to bring my guard back down. Just as I felt I was going to get myself killed by animals, the purple stone in the pommel of my sword blazed with a purple-gold hue, lit from the inside. The Uruks backed away from me, even the one that had just come within a hair's breadth of killing me, fear in their eyes. I could only stare as the glow moved from the stone to the hilt; from there, it ran through the carved lines in the winged cross-guard before filling the etchings on the blade itself. Then I felt the power.

This was no Elf-blade.

I snarled at the Uruk-Hai as they moved forward to fight me again. Lines of golden light moved from my sword to my hand as Narsul shared her power with me. Seconds later, it hit my blood, and I felt a battle frenzy the likes of which I had only heard stories of.

Narsul moved on her own then, guided by her own power and moved by my hand. My body lunged through motions I had never been taught, lashing out at Uruks before spinning away to face another. They fell before me, before Narsul as she cut through them like a hot knife through butter. I noticed not the black blood on my face and my arms; all I knew was the battle song my sword sang as she battled a foe she was made to fight. It wasn't long before there were no Uruk-Hai left near me to fight. Legolas and Gimli stared at me in amazement; all I could do was stare back, having no words to describe what had just happened as the glow faded from my sword.

Legolas, at least, seemed to understand what that power was, having learned my secret. Gimli, knowing not that I was not completely Mortal as he had thought, was just standing there, his jaw on the ground. I took a moment to collect myself before addressing Gimli's expression, "Do you plan on catching flies, Master Dwarf?" He glared at me halfheartedly but closed his mouth.

"What did you do there, lady Riana?" he asked me, his voice almost reverent. I sighed.

"I'll explain later, Master Gimli." He looked ready to argue, so I held up a hand. "This was only one part of the battle. I will explain after we have made sure our companions are safe." As though in response to my comments, we heard a horn echo through the distance. Legolas and I turned in the direction it came from, his eyebrows low over his eyes.

"The horn of Gondor," the Elf whispered, turning worried eyes to mine. I felt my own widen in understanding.

"Boromir!" The two of us took off running in the direction of the horn-calls, leaving Gimli to huff and puff his way along behind us. I felt the power wake in Narsul again, as though she knew we were headed for battle again. We came across several groups of Uruk-Hai, but between my blade and Legolas' arrows, they barely slowed us down. But they did slow us some, just enough for us to be too late. The desperate horn-calls stopped while we were still a good distance from them; I knew then that Boromir was in more trouble than we'd thought. I poured on as much speed as I could without actually taking to the air, leaving even Legolas falling behind.

I came to a clearing littered with the bodies of Uruks, skidding to a halt just before revealing my presence to the leaving horde. Wait. Leaving. They were leaving! I started to celebrate when I saw Boromir on the ground. He was on his knees, three black-fletched arrows sprouting from his chest. Before him, as the others disappeared, stood the largest Uruk I had yet seen; no doubt this was their leader. Slowly it drew a final arrow, aiming it directly in Boromir's face. I started to run towards him when suddenly a figure burst out of the trees behind it, knocking both itself and the Uruk to the ground.

I spared them no second glance, instead rushing to Boromir's side. Ignoring the sounds of the battle nearby, I gently moved the Man to a slightly more comfortable position before studying the arrows that had pierced him. I reached to pull one free, but he gripped my hand weakly, shaking his head. I glared at him. "Don't you dare give up now! If there's a chance…" I didn't get to finish as Aragorn appeared by my side, looking over Boromir's wounds. Carefully, I slipped my hand free and stepped back, trying to give them as much privacy as I could. Boromir gasped for breath, trying to speak; when he finally did, his words chilled my heart.

"They took the little ones," he gasped. Aragorn didn't answer, and Boromir continued. "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo." That I knew, or had assumed. "Forgive me. I have paid." Aragorn placed his hands on Boromir's shoulders; I turned away. "I have failed."

"No, you fought bravely," came Aragorn's shattered reply. "And, though I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you, I will not let our city fall. Nor our people fail."

Boromir took strength from that, it seemed, attempting to speak again. After a moment, he finally managed to grate out, "Our people." Then again, "Our people." There was a moment of silence then Boromir spoke for the last time, his voice suddenly stronger. "I would have followed you my brother. My captain." He took a deep breath, and I turned back to face him, laying a hand on his shoulder. His breath left him with his final words, "My King." Then the light faded from his eyes and he was gone. Aragorn leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on our fallen comrade's forehead.

"Be at peace, Son of Gondor," he whispered brokenly, tears in his eyes. I stood, rage and grief warring for supremacy in my heart. So much death. This war had given us nothing but grief. Fist the loss of Gandalf in Moria, then the Uruk-Hai took Merry and Pippin. And now, the war claimed another of our company. Tears dripped from my eyes freely, and I made no move to stop them. Our friends deserved my tears. Boromir had fought bravely, attempting to save our friends from a fate worse than death. And now, Merry and Pippin were gone, taken somewhere that I could not save them from.

Like my brother. The tears came faster now, for both my friends and my brother. They were lost to me now. Gone, and I could not bring them back. I collapsed to my knees, unable to see through my tears. I didn't hear anyone approach, but a moment later, I felt arms go around me, pulling me to a strong chest that smelled of sunshine and free air. I buried my face in Legolas' shoulder, for that scent could belong to no one else, and once again allowed the hold on my tears to fall. He rocked me gently, not speaking, only offering what comfort he could in sharing my grief.

Finally, my tears stopped. I pulled back from Legolas, meeting his broken gaze with one of my own. "Why?" I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying. "Why?" He just shook his head, unable to speak. That was when the rage took over. "They will not win. I will _never_ let them win!" He looked back at me as I stood, glaring in the direction the Uruks had taken Merry and Pippin. The Elf nodded his assent.

"We will not let them win." With that, we helped each other rise and went to find the others. We returned to the river, seeing Gimli and Aragorn having a deep conversation. I hadn't even realized they had left. By the time Legolas and I reached the pair, they seemed to have reached an accord, although Gimli was looking remarkably downcast.

"Then it has all been in vain. The Fellowship has failed." Aragorn put a hand to the Dwarf's shoulder, giving strength to all of us.

"Not as long as we hold true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death." I nodded. This sounded very much like what Legolas and I had just agreed. Aragorn then turned away to grab his knife, sliding it firmly into its sheath. "We travel light," he said, his voice hard. Then a smirk appeared on his face and he added, "Let's hunt some Orc." Gimli's face broke into a smile as he cried, "Yes!" Legolas and I exchanged nods.

Then all four of us ran into the forest, away from Frodo and Sam, for whom we could only now pray. We ran to our own doom, our own destiny. Perhaps, one day, all our paths would cross again.

We could only wait, and see.

**and that's it for the first part! *holds up applause sign* i should hopefully be able to start Part II in the next couple of days... sadly, updates will be a little farther apart, since i start classes on Monday... but i promise, i will not abandon my lovely reviewers! (mostly coz i think you all would kill me in as painfully a way as you know how if i stop before i finish, right?)**

**anyway, i bid you adieu for now, and i shall return! REVIEW please, although you have been doing such a lovely job of that by yourselves :D**


	14. Through Rohan

**i don't own LoTR, only Rianadra :D**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Thirteen: Through Rohan<p>

We traveled hard for days on end, hoping to gain ground on the Uruks, and by proxy Merry and Pippin. The four of us, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and myself, barely rested during those days, sleeping only when necessary, and only for short periods of time. We ate while running, and for once I was glad of my people's increased endurance. Without it, I would not have been able to keep up. As it was, I easily kept pace with Legolas, although neither of us could quite catch Aragorn. Were we not on such an urgent errand, I would have found that fact rather entertaining.

By the morning of the third day, Aragorn believed we were maybe a little over a day behind the Uruks; he spent much of his time, when it could be spared, kneeling with his ear to the ground, listening to the footsteps of our quarry. This afternoon was no different; I stood back a bit with Legolas and Gimli as the Man put his ear to the rock again. I wondered if he really could truly hear the Uruks moving even this far back.

Apparently he could, as he sat up a moment later, a hard look on his face. "Their pace has quickened. They must have caught our scent," he muttered, glancing back at us. "Hurry!" Instantly, Legolas and I leaped to join him, Gimli slowly stumbling his way along behind us. I glanced back at the Dwarf, grinning.

"Come on, Gimli!" He glared at us.

"Three days and night's pursuit… No food, no rest, and no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell!" he yelled back at us; I would have laughed at him had I the breath to spare. Luckily, perhaps, for him, I did not. Instead I rushed to catch up with Aragorn, who was far ahead of us as usual, and Legolas, who was only a little ways in front of me. And then we ran. Hours passed as the sun steadily moved across the sky. Gimli complained constantly, which I thought was part of the reason- if not completely the reason- why he was always out of breath.

Some time around mid afternoon, Aragorn stopped suddenly; I nearly bowled over him. "Aragorn! Why did you stop?" I growled, glaring at him as I stumbled off to one side. He glanced up at me, showing me the tiny green and silver brooch he had picked up.

"Not idly do the Leaves of Lorien fall," he said softly. I took it from him, staring at it, unable to speak. Legolas came up behind me, looking over my shoulder to see what held my attention. I heard a tiny gasp from him; I assumed he understood the importance of this discovery.

He spoke a second later, his voice soft. "They may yet be alive." Aragorn rose swiftly, nodding. I pocketed the tiny brooch as the Man moved off again.

"Less than a day ahead of us!" He ran off, adding, "Come," over his shoulder. I glanced back to see Gimli fall off the ledge the three of us had leaped off easily. With laughter and triumph in my voice I called back to him,

"Come, Gimli! We are gaining on them!" With that I ran off, barely catching what he yelled back at me in rebuttal.

"I'm wasted on cross-country! We Dwarves are natural sprinters," he growled. I laughed as he added, "Very dangerous over short distances!" Aragorn chuckled ahead of us as he raced up a hill at the end of the pass we had just come through. At the top, he and Legolas gazed across the country ahead of us. I caught up with them, Gimli a few seconds behind me, just in time to hear Aragorn tell us what country we were about to enter.

"Rohan. Home of the Horse-lords." He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "There's something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures… sets its will against us." I had to agree but didn't have to chance to respond. Legolas grabbed my arm and pulled me a little ways ahead of the others.

"Your eyes are no doubt as good as mine. What do you see?" I looked out, spotting the swift-moving black mark of our quarry rushing across the plains before us. I glanced over at Legolas, noting the nervous look on his face when he realized their direction. "The Uruks… They are going to Isengard!" he muttered to me, sounding very worried. I was about to ask him what was so bad about Isengard aside from a not-so-lovable Wizard when Aragorn called from behind us, "Legolas! What do your Elf-eyes see?" Legolas grimaced at me before telling the Man what he had just told me before adding, "If only Men could have such eyesight as our people have, eh?" I snorted with laughter, ignoring the confused looks of the others as they caught up.

"Give me strange looks all you like, you two, I am not going to explain what was so funny." They glared at me; I just grinned. "You would not understand, would they, Legolas?" The Elf grinned at me, completely understanding my joke.

"No, they would not, Lady Rianadra. No, they would not."

**(as much as I hate time skips, it's impossible not to have one here… unless y'all WANT to read more of just them running across Rohan all day…)**

We ran straight into the sunset. I watched the great ball fall from the sky, hoping our little friends could survive another night. We were so close now; I thought it may very well kill us to be so close and lose them.

At some point after we discovered the Uruks's destination, Legolas had muttered to me, "They run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them." At the time, I hadn't quite agreed, thinking that perhaps we would catch them by sunfall. As it turned out, though, the Elf was right. They did indeed run as though they expected a killing blow to strike from behind if they did not move quickly enough. The sun fell to the West, and still we moved on.

I heard Gimli start to wheeze behind me, worse than before, and knew we had to stop or risk killing the Dwarf. "Aragorn!" The Man kept moving, although Legolas stopped with me as we waited for the Dwarf. "Aragorn!" Finally, he stopped and looked back at us. "We must stop, for now." The Man gave me a disbelieving stare, so I added, "They must stop as well. Even Uruk-Hai cannot keep this speed up overnight." It would hurt Gimli's pride to know that I had asked Aragorn to stop for his sake. After a moment's deliberation, Aragorn came back to join us, looking a little worse for wear himself.

"You are right, Riana. We shall rest, eat, and be moving before dawn." We all agreed on this, and spent a bare four hours eating and resting. After that, even Gimli could not come up with an excuse to keep from moving on.

So we did.

Through the night, we ran, hoping the Uruks had stopped to rest as we had. I could only pray I had been right when I claimed they would have to stop for rest. If not, I could not begin to imagine the consequences. If we lost Merry and Pippin because I suggested a rest… I did not think I could forgive myself. And so, this time it was me leading us; I raced ahead of Aragorn, in a sense hoping to make up for lost time just in case the worst was about to happen.

Just as the sun had earlier, the moon slowly marched across the sky as we ran, marking the hours that flew by. Everything looked the same in the night, and so I could barely tell if we were going the right way or if we were going an opposite direction. Were it not for Aragorn staying so close behind me, I may well have turned around for fear I had gone the wrong way. As it was, I kept going, and knew finally we were indeed heading the right way when the sun rose behind us with a brilliant red glow.

I was relieved for all of a few seconds, as Legolas had to make a comment that made my blood go cold, "A red sun rises… Blood has been spilled this night." I wanted to smack him. Of course, the Elf could have no idea that I spent most of the night fretting over whether our decision to rest was a wise one or not, but still. That was in no way a necessary comment! I settled for glaring at the back of his blonde head as he caught up to Aragorn, who was crouched on the ground again, studying tracks left in the dirt.

Still grumbling about unnecessary comments, I joined them, followed by Gimli. I was about to inform Legolas just how I felt about his thoughts on "red suns rising" when a not-so-distant whinny sounded from below the hill. Aragorn rose to his feet swiftly, looking out across the plains. After a moment, he gestured quickly to hide behind a boulder. Briefly I debated not following them, but after Aragorn sent a glare my way, I decided now was not the time to be obstinate. I rushed to join them behind the boulder.

Seconds after I was completely hidden, a host of riders moved past us, their horses' hooves thundering. I stared at them, amazed, having never seen that many horses in one place before. Truly, it was an impressive sight. So immersed was I in watching the herd move by that I didn't notice Aragorn had slipped out from behind our boulder until Legolas tugged on my arm. I quickly joined him and Gimli at Aragorn's side as he called in a voice meant for battlefields, "Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?"

The Rider in the lead tilted his spear to one side; the entire company turned and rode swiftly back towards us. Nervously, I slid behind Legolas, watching them come closer. The Riders were on us an instant later, circling around until we were surrounded by at least three rows of horsemen. That was fine, but then they moved closer and closer, pressing the four of us against each other. I pressed myself against the Elf's back and felt him grab my hand. The touch calmed me just enough to stop the panic rising in my throat, but not enough to keep me from coming out from behind him. I was fine right where I was.

Through the ranks of horseman, a single rider approached us. Just as he broke through the center ring, he spoke, "What business does an Elf, an Man, a girl, and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark?" Girl… I bit back a growl and glared at him around the shelter of Legolas' shoulder. "Speak quickly!" I ducked back as his eyes landed briefly on me. Noticing my sudden discomfort, Gimli spoke.

"Give me your name, Horse-master, and I shall give you mine!" His distracting ploy worked, as the horseman tossed his spear to another before swiftly dismounting. He came to stand in front of the Dwarf, clearly not amused.

"I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground," he snapped. Legolas suddenly released my hand, reaching for an arrow and setting it to the string. Not a moment later, it was pointed straight at the Horse-lord's head and all the spears were aimed at us. Him, mostly, but I was too close to him for them to miss me. I shrank back again as Legolas growled- as much as an Elf can growl-, "You would die before your stroke fell!" Thankfully, Aragorn seemed to still have some sense left, as he pushed Legolas' bow down before turning to the horseman. Legolas continued to glower at the Man, but his hand eventually found mine again.

Aragorn was introducing us when I peeked out from behind the Elf again, "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli son of Gloin, Legolas of the Woodland Realm, and Rianadra of the Mountains." I squeaked at the mention of my name, having much preferred to not have been noticed at all. Legolas squeezed my hand gently, and I tried to take comfort from that. However, the closeness of the horse, the fact that they were all higher than me, and the not-so-happy emotions were all working to make me feel very claustrophobic. Even the closeness of the Elf did little to alleviate the anxiety in my chest.

"Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe," the Horse-lord stated in answer to something Aragorn had said. "Not even his own kin." With that, the Man removed his helmet and the spears moved to point elsewhere. I breathed a little easier as the horseman continued, "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over his lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan, and for that, we are banished." I wondered who Saruman was, and why everyone seemed to be so frightened of him. I glanced up at Legolas, but he had returned to glaring at the Man.

"The White Wizard is cunning," the Horse-lord spoke softly. "He walks here and there they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets." Ah, so that was why Legolas looked ready to commit murder. The idiot Man had implied he thought we were spies. I poked my head around to glower at him myself.

"We are no spies!" my mouth grumbled without my brain having told it to do so. The Man looked at me then, and I could no longer hide behind Legolas now that I had spoken. I stepped out to the side, trying not to show how nervous I was without the Elf's comforting presence between the horseman and me. "We track a party of Uruk-Hai across the plains." I paused then, not knowing how much to tell him. Aragorn finished for me.

"They have taken two of our friends captive." The horseman's face lit in understanding.

"The Uruks are destroyed," he said firmly. "We slaughtered them during the night." I swallowed hard.

"But there were two Hobbits!" Gimli cried. "Did you see two Hobbits with them?" At the Horse-lord's confused glance, Aragorn translated Gimli's excited babble. "They would be small, only children to your eyes." The Horseman's eyes were shadowed now, and when he spoke next, his words shattered my heart and left my blood cold.

"We left none alive."


	15. Into Fangorn

**Disclaimer: tolkein still owns all rights to LoTR characters... i do own riana and cri, so no stealing!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Fourteen: Into Fangorn<p>

The breath left me in a whoosh at the Horseman's announcement. He looked over at me in sympathy, but I just ducked back behind Legolas rather than face him. I heard him sigh softly before continuing to address Aragorn, "We piled the carcasses and burned them." I swallowed a sob; the blame for this fell on me. I had convinced Aragorn to stop last night. Perhaps if we hadn't, we might have found our friends alive.

A gentle touch on my shoulder brought me out of my tailspin. I looked up to meet the Elf's concerned blue eyes. I couldn't hold his gaze for long, dropping my eyes after only a couple of seconds. Ignoring the others, Legolas gripped my chin and made me look at him. In a voice too low for the others to hear, he spoke to me, "This is not your fault, Rianadra. The odds of us catching them were few." I glared at him; his hands dropped from my chin to my shoulders, giving me a little shake with each word he spoke next. "This. Was. Not. Your. Fault. Do you understand me?"

"Quit making a scene," I grumbled, mostly to avoid having to answer his question. The Elf just glowered at me. "I understand you perfectly, Elf. It's whether or not I believe you that you should be asking." With that, I returned my attention to the conversation between the two Men, coming in right when the one not of our little company let out a shrill whistle and called two names; for an instant, I thought they were Men's names.

"Hasufel! Arod!" I was swiftly proven wrong when two horses, one a light brown, the other white, moved to stand by him. Oh. "May theses horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters." The two horses stood by us calmly as the Man mounted his own before adding, "Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands." With that, he kicked his horse into movement before calling back, "We ride North!" Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and I stood silently, the Elf's hands still on my shoulders, as the horses and riders thundered into the distance. As soon as they were out of earshot, Legolas turned to me.

"Rianadra-" I interrupted him, not wanting to hear another lecture on how losing Merry and Pippin wasn't my fault.

"Save your breath, Elf." Legolas stared after me in shock as I stalked over to Aragorn, assuming I would be riding behind him. "No matter how many ways you say it, I was the one who convinced all of you to stop last night. Maybe if I hadn't, we would have caught the Uruks before the riders." I stood on the far side of the brown horse so Legolas could not see my face; I should have known it wouldn't work. He just came around and dragged me back over to the white horse, giving the confused Dwarf a push towards Aragorn.

"Ride with him for now, Gimli. Rianadra and I will follow you shortly." I glared at him and tried to twist out of his grip. "And stop that, Rianadra. I am not letting go no matter how hard you fight me."

"Will you at least let go of my shirt so I can breathe?" His only response to that was a raised eyebrow. "Fine." Gimli and Aragorn were staring at us, confused. The Elf just shook his head.

"We will follow you. There is something I need to discuss with this one," and he shook me a little too roughly. I tried to whack him across the head, but he stopped me before my arm went very far. "Do not even try it," he snapped at me. Aragorn seemed concerned, but chose not to say anything after the Elf turned that glare on him.

"Very well, Legolas. But be careful: we don't know if any of the Uruks escaped." I snorted with humorless laughter, causing the Man to look over at me, his blue eyes worried.

"At this rate, I _hope_ at least some survived," I growled. "It would be nice to get a little revenge." I stopped before I could say anything more, but the Elf seemed to have picked up on the unspoken name. He knew it wasn't just Merry and Pippin that I wanted revenge for. This was the second time Uruks had stolen someone precious from me. There could not, would not, be a third time. Legolas shook me again, gentler this time, as the other two mounted the brown horse and rode off. Then he spun me around so I faced him, put his hands on my shoulders firmly, and greeted me with the full impact of his Elvish displeasure.

I squirmed under his scrutiny but gave up trying to get away. I was going to have to explain my true reasons for feeling the way I did, although I suspected he had an idea. "Well, Elf? Lecture away, now that the others are gone." He just gave me a look, somewhere between looking down his nose at me and rolling his eyes. I glared back. "You held us back to say something, so say it."

"This is not just about Merry and Pippin, is it?" I dropped my gaze immediately at that, cursing him eloquently in my mind. Of course, that only told him exactly what he wanted to know. "Your brother." My heart stopped then, and I felt the barrier I had built- or attempted to build- around it cracked a little.

"Cri, yes. And Gandalf." A sudden slap to the head had me glaring at him again, with much more heat this time. "What was that for?" He smirked at me.

"It got your attention, did it not?"

"Stop smirking at me like that, Elf, before I have to do something drastic to wipe it off myself." It only broadened at that. "Don't make me beat you."

"You are avoiding the question."

"Yes, I am avoiding the question!" We glared at each other then, both refusing to back down.

Finally, Legolas sighed. "You could not have known this would happen, and as the Horseman said, there is still the chance they live."

"But he also said-"

"I know what he also said, dragonling." My mouth snapped shut when Legolas used my race name instead of my name. He was definitely angry. "I do not want to think that until we have the evidence of such a thing in front of us," the Elf continued after waiting to make sure I was not going to say anything else. "Your decision to hide what you are from the others in Moria was a wise one, although perhaps a little insulting to our characters." I had to smirk slightly at the offended tone to his voice, but he chose to ignore it. "I do not know what happened the day your brother disappeared, but… I do not think he would blame you for anything, Rianadra."

I sighed, glad that he had calmed enough to use my name again. But I did not agree with him. "Perhaps he does not blame me, but I blame myself."

"And that is where the problem lies, girl." I scoffed, and he lightly slapped my head again. "Blaming yourself is not going to bring any of them back to you and is only insulting their memories." I sighed. The Elf did make a fine point there…

"I will not argue with you there," I said finally. He nodded once.

"Good." Then he hugged me around the shoulders for a moment, "Hopefully we shall not have to do this again."

"Ack! I am insulted!" He only grinned and mounted the white horse, which had stood patiently by us the whole time, gesturing for me to get on behind him. I grumbled but swung up behind him, settling my balance by wrapping an arm around his waist. Which truly should not have felt as good as it did. I should not even be thinking of such things, least of all now! Glaring at the back of his head, I cursed the Elf and all that he made me think and feel all the way back to our companions.

But, by the time we reached them, my mirth and frustration at a certain Elf had dissipated. Aragorn's face was hidden in shadow, and Gimli seemed to be in shock. I leaped of the horse before Legolas had come to a complete stop, stumbling to a halt in front of the Dwarf. "Did you…?" I couldn't finish, but he knew what I meant. Slowly he lifted a hand, showing me the tiny belt he grasped.

"One of their wee belts. We have failed them…" I stared down at him for a moment then looked over to the Man, who knelt on the ground. Behind me, I heard the Elf whisper an prayer.

"Dead…?" I heard the whisper come from my own mouth but could not believe it to be true. Gimli nodded, his eyes distant. I was about to collapse to the ground, much as Aragorn had, when the Man suddenly spoke.

"A Hobbit lay here." I spun to face him, hearing the hope in his voice. "And the other," he continued, his voice barely a whisper. "They crawled," and suddenly he was moving, following tracks only he could see. "Their hands were bound…" A moment later, he picked up a length of rope with frayed edges. "Their bonds were cut!" The Man rose to his feet, eyes still firmly on the ground, and added, "They ran over here… and were followed." He paused for a moment. The next time he spoke, his voice was excited, hopeful, "The tracks lead away from the battle! Into…" Here he stopped, staring at the line of trees in front of us. "Into Fangorn Forest."

"Fangorn," Gimli whispered, his eyes wide. "What madness drove them in there?"

"I don't know, Master Dwarf," I exclaimed then, "but if that's where they went, then that is where I shall go!" I was about to dive into the trees, but Aragorn caught me. I glared at him, "Why did you stop me? Do you not wish to find them?" He shook his head slightly.

"It is almost dark, Riana. We could not find them in Fangorn should we attempt to search for them in the night." I wished that he did not have such a valid reason, as now I could not sneak away later to search for the Hobbits myself. "If I have to tie you so you cannot go on our own, I will do it, girl." My glare went positively glacial at that comment.

"I am not that stupid or that reckless, Aragorn." He raised an eyebrow at me. "I am not; stop looking at me like that." I glanced around, hoping to find some support from the other two. I did not get it: Gimli was trying not to laugh, and Legolas was giving me the same look Aragorn was. "I am not!" Gimli could not hold the laughter back anymore then, and broke the silence with a loud guffaw. I glared at him. "I see nothing funny about this, Dwarf!" Unfortunately, I did see the humor seconds after I said that and completely ruined the irritated dragonling image when I followed the Dwarf in gales of laughter while still trying to glare at the other two.

After a moment, Aragorn's mouth twitched. He forced it still with a great effort of will, but couldn't hold it back any longer. He nearly fell to the ground again in laughter as Legolas just gawked at him in disbelief. And the sight of an Elf gawking at anything was far funnier than I think he intended, inducing even more laughter from both me and the Dwarf. Legolas glared at us, his nose in the air, before turning away from us, trying to maintain at least some dignity.

It took a while, but we did manage to calm down. By then, it was nearly full dark, so even I could not attempt to see more than two feet in front of me, and that barely on the forest's edge. I had to admit it, but Aragorn was right. We would have to wait until daylight to look for the Hobbits.

I only hoped they had not survived the battle only to die in the forest.


	16. Resurrection

**as usual, i do not own any LoTR characters... but riana and cri are mine!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Fifteen: Resurrection<p>

The next day, as Aragorn had promised me, we set out into Fangorn the instant the sun rose past the horizon. He took the lead, with me and Legolas a short ways behind him and Gimli at the end. I could feel the Elf giving me looks the whole time; neither of us had forgotten our "discussion" as he kept calling it. Gimli crashed his way through bushes and shrubs that the rest of us pushed through easily, oblivious to the slight tension between two of his companions. Aragorn noticed, but wisely chose to say nothing.

Daybreak turned back into night as we left the outer reaches of the forest. The air grew closer together; it became difficult to breathe. I started sticking closer and closer to Legolas, in spite of our little spat the day before. Fangorn Forest was not a place I would have chosen to come. In a sense, it was worse than Moria. I knew the sky was above me, and I could see glimpses of it; yet I could not reach it. Moria at least did not torment me with such tempting glances of sky above the tree line. I wasn't the only one unhappy with where we were, though. I heard Gimli grumbling behind me and had to giggle a little at some of his favorite curses.

We wandered aimlessly it seemed for hours until finally Aragorn spotted something that told him where we were supposed to be going. After that, we moved faster, although I had no idea what the Man was following so diligently. He led us on what felt like a wild-goose chase, going in circles and never finding what we were looking for. We found clues that proved we were going the right way, but not what we were actually looking for.

What felt like hours later, I stumbled over a bush covered in a disgusting black liquid. I called back to whoever was closest, "Someone needs to look at this." A moment later, Gimli came to stand at my side.

"What did you find, lassie?" I nodded towards the bush I had tripped over.

"There's something on that," I told him. "It's black and sticky." He nodded, then tasted it. Immediately he spat it back out with a nauseated look on his face.

"Orc blood." Aragorn moved past him suddenly, eyes fixed on a track that even I could see. He knelt by it with me, Legolas, and Gimli standing over him, confused. After a moment, he looked up at us.

"These are strange tracks," he said, sounding worried. Gimli grumbled behind us.

"The air's so close in here," he mumbled. I could not agree more, and was about to tell him so when the Elf spoke in barely more than a whisper.

"This forest is old. Very old." He glanced over at Aragorn then me. "Full of memory… and anger." As though they had been waiting for just such a comment, I heard strange, deep sounds coming from the trees. I inched closer to the Elf until I could grab the edge of his cloak and duck behind him again. He glanced back at me. "That may not be the safest place for you, Rianadra," he told me softly. I just shrugged slightly.

"I don't really care right now, Elf, so if you could kindly stay in front of me…" He sighed softly but didn't move. Meanwhile, as the trees continued to moan, I heard Gimli draw his weapon from somewhere off to my right. I turned to see him spinning in circles, searching for whatever it was making that noise. Legolas then told us all exactly what it was.

"The trees are speaking to each other," he muttered, looking around himself. Gimli spun around again, no less nervous than before. Finally, Aragorn stepped in.

"Gimli!" The Dwarf looked over at him with a baffled look on his face. "Lower your ax." Still confused, Gimli lowered his weapon; the trees stopped moaning the instant he did.

Legolas, grinning, turned to his friend. "They have feelings, my friend." The Dwarf scoffed. "The Elves began it: waking the trees, teaching them to speak." Gimli rolled his eyes.

"Talking trees. What do trees have to talk about, hmm? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings." I burst out laughing then, ignoring Gimli's glare and Legolas' amused glance. I slowly released my grip on the Elf's cloak after a little while, still chortling at Gimli's "squirrel droppings" comment. Legolas grinned at me, but a moment later, he spun around, his eyes scanning the forest.

"Aragorn, _nad no ennas_!" He moved past the rest of us, scanning the surrounding trees. Aragorn caught up with him, and I didn't catch what he said. Legolas' next comment, though, sent a shiver through me even though I didn't quite know why.

"The White Wizard approaches." Gimli gasped next to me, looking nervous. Aragorn nodded at Legolas.

"Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us." Oh, I thought, so that was why. Still… I saw Gimli shift his grip on his ax and Legolas slide his fingers down the fletching of a notched arrow. Aragorn's sword made the slightest rasp as he slid it partially free of its hilt. I casually stepped back, hoping to not get caught in some kind of fight here. "We must be quick," Aragorn whispered as a light burst over a rise that had not been there seconds before. I slapped a hand over my eyes with a snarl of pain. All I heard then was the sound of Gimli roaring as he threw his ax, the soft twang of Legolas releasing an arrow, and the clang of Aragorn's sword landing on the ground. Then I heard an unfamiliar voice say,

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits." I kept my hand over my eyes, straining my ears to hear every word to make up for it.

"Where are they?" Aragorn growled.

The voice answered, "They passed this way… The day before yesterday. But they met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?" The voice changed then, and I almost though it sounded familiar. Who was it?

Aragorn hadn't noticed the fluctuation, instead opting to yell at the figure, "Who are you? Show yourself!" I felt the pressure of the light lessen; slowly I peeled my hand away from my eyes. I nearly fell to the ground as my knees wobbled; the only thing that stopped me was Legolas' arm. Even in his own shock at the person before us, he still had the presence of mind to keep me from falling. He then helped me kneel with far more grace than I would have on my own, bowing his head as he did so.

"It cannot be…" Aragorn whispered. I lowered my head as well as feelings swarmed over me. The guilt from before, watching him fall, and now… Relief so profound, I was nearly in tears poured through me. A great roar filled my ears as Legolas spoke from next to me.

"Forgive me. I mistook you for Saruman." I touched his hand, and he glanced at me gratefully. I raised an eyebrow that said, "Now you know how I felt." He tried to grin back, but was not quite able to make it work.

The White Wizard spoke then, "I am Saruman. Or rather, I am Saruman as he should have been." I was a little confused by that, but chose not to comment as Aragorn whispered,

"You fell," in a broken tone. I looked up at that, hoping not to see blame in the Wizard's eyes. I saw none, but he did look at me as though he knew what I had thought.

"Through fire," he said, making no comments to me, "and water. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought him: the Balrog of Morgoth." He paused for a second before continuing, "Until at last I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside." I was surprised at the bitter tone to his voice, but it was gone a second later. "Darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled over head… and every day was as long as a life-age of the earth… But it was not the end. I felt light in me again." He looked over at us, his gaze firm. "I have been sent back, until my task is done."

"Gandalf…" Aragorn's voice was quiet, breaking slightly on the end of the Wizard's name.

"Gandalf?" He looked confused for a moment, then a light of understanding filled his eyes. "Oh, yes. That was what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."

I heard Gimli whisper from nearby, "Gandalf," and I repeated the name under my breath. Was this truly possible? Had he truly come back to us?

As though in answer to my unspoken questions, Gandalf answered, "I am Gandalf the White. And I come back to you now, at the turn of the tide." I looked up at him, forcing the tears back by will alone. Slowly I rose; the Wizard gestured to me. "Come, Rianadra. I would speak with you alone for a moment." I nodded slowly, following him away from the others until we were out of easy earshot. "You blame yourself for many things, dear girl." I looked down.

"Until now, it seemed as though I could have saved you, Wizard. We did not know you would be returning to us." If we had, it would have spared us a great deal of guilt and heartbreak. But the Wizard was shaking his head.

"Even if I had known, I could not have told you. But now, you need not blame yourself. The Hobbits are well. I spoke to them only days ago, and your brother… Your brother will be well."

"What? You have seen Cri? Where is he?" The Wizard laughed heartily then.

"One question at a time, dragonling." That distracted me completely. I hadn't known he knew what I was...

"What? Gandalf… how long have you… how?" He placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I have known what you are since the very moment I looked upon you, dear one. But you meant us no harm, nor could you have caused us harm at the time." He had a point there… "Besides, my heart told me that you would have some part to play in all this. I know not what that may be, but this did not happen for no reason." I stared at him, wondering if the others would feel the same. "They most likely would, Rianadra. You have already told Legolas, have you not?" I nodded. "You need not fear the others of our Fellowship, but other Men you may be wise to hide from."

"The ones that killed my parents?"

"They died of natural causes long ago, my dear. But others of the like, yes. Others who would kill you before knowing that you mean no harm. Be of care, dear girl." He put his hands on either side of my face then, and smiled down at me. "But you have a long life ahead of you, Rianadra. Do not fear to live it. And, in answer to your first questions, I have not seen your brother. All I can say is that I know he is well." He then gently kissed my forehead before leaving to return to the others. I rushed to catch up to him, and when I got there, he was speaking to the others,

"One stage of your journey is over. Another begins. War has come to Rohan. We must ride to Edoras, with all speed."


	17. The Golden Hall

**i no own T_T riana and cri are mine**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Seventeen: The Golden Hall<p>

"Edoras?" Gimli and I asked at the same time as Gandalf moved off at a brisk pace. I let Gimli continue, deciding to save my questions for a more opportune time. "That is no small distance," the Dwarf commented. As soon as he was done, I added, "What is Edoras?" Legolas grinned at me.

"You will see Edoras before long, Rianadra," he told me. "But it is a city, the city of the Golden Hall." He really needed to learn to give straight answers.

"What makes you think I know what the Golden Hall is when I do not even know what or where Edoras is?" I grumbled, half glaring at him.

"You will see it soon." Helpful… I tuned back into the others' conversation, having caught Aragorn saying,

"We hear of trouble in Rohan. It goes ill with the king." Gandalf was nodding before he was even finished speaking.

"Yes. It will not be easily cured, I am afraid."

"You mean we have run out here, all this way, for nothing?" the ever-irritable Gimli grumbled as I came to stand by him. "Are we to leave the young Hobbits in this dark, horrid, tree-infested-" I smacked him across the head as the trees started to moan again, this time in anger. "I mean, charming! Simply charming forest!" He was pale again, and sweating. I snorted with laughter.

"I think we had better get you out of here before you bring the forest down on our heads, Dwarf," I told him, chuckling. He glowered up at me.

"It is not my fault the trees are so sensitive! Ow!" he yelped as a pinecone dropped on his nose. I burst out laughing then, practically hanging off Legolas as Gandalf added between my howls,

"It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years. The coming of the Hobbits will be like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche." Aragorn joined my laughter for a moment.

"In one thing only you have not changed, dear friend," he told the Wizard after he was through laughing. Gandalf raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. "You still speak in riddles." The two of them exchanged fond smiles and a soft laugh. A moment later, though, Gandalf was serious again.

"Something now is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder Days." I was confused. Elder Days? Not for the first time, and not for the last, I cursed my lack of knowledge. The only things I knew of were the ones that were likely to eat me. And even then, my knowledge and understanding of them was sketchy at best. Gandalf was still speaking, though, so I forced myself to pay attention. "The Ents are going to wake, and they will find they are strong." Oh, lovely, I thought, another word I don't know. Gimli seemed pleased by this.

"Strong? Oh, that's good." Gandalf smiled down at him.

"So stop your fretting, Master Dwarf. Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are safer than you will be." The Dwarf grunted.

"This new Gandalf's more grumpy than the old one," he muttered to me and Legolas as we moved on, following the white glow of the Wizard in front of us. I howled with laughter again, stopping only when Gandalf glared over his shoulder at me. Even then, I continued to chortle softly to myself.

It took us considerably less time to get out of the forest as it had to get in. Not even an hour passed before we left the shelter of the trees to stand before the plains. A little ways off, I saw the pile of dead and burnt Orcs, and our two horses cantering towards us. Gandalf ignored them, wrapping a grey cloak around himself then pursing his lips, letting a long, wavering whistle through the air. A second one followed, echoing across the fields before us.

A distant whinny came back to us in response; before long, we saw a brilliantly white horse galloping towards us. Legolas' jaw dropped in shocked amazement. I tugged on his arm, "What? What is it?" He turned to me, his eyes wide.

"That is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell." I turned back to stare at the horse for a minute then faced the Elf again.

"What's a Mearas?" He just shook his head and patted my shoulder. "I am completely serious."

"That is what worries me." I tried to whack him on the back of the head but he dodged me easily. "How do you not know these things?" he asked, actually interested in the answer.

"I grew up in a forest, with nobody but my brother around. That does not exactly lend itself to learning all there is about the world." He tilted his head, but before he could speak, Gandalf did.

"Shadowfax." I was not sure if he was greeting the horse that now stood in front of him or introducing us to it. "He is the lord of all horses, and he has been my friend through many dangers." He then turned to the rest of us, saying, "We must ride, and quickly." I looked back at Legolas.

"Am I riding with you again or with him?" I gestured to Aragorn, who shrugged. Legolas thought for a minute.

"Ride with Aragorn; I will take Gimli." The Dwarf started behind me, having not expected to hear his name. I nodded, laughing softly at Gimli's shock, and swung on to Hasufel's back. Aragorn mounted behind me, and then we were off.

The days we spent travelling were uneventful, if not exactly relaxed. Gandalf pushed us hard, and we were oddly glad of it. I was, at least. It was nice to have a goal in mind, a specific place, instead of simply wandering as we had done before. Aragorn and I did not talk much during the ride, and come evening we were all too tired to have much conversation. The days passed quickly, and all too soon, we crested the last hill. Before us sat a city on a hill, the largest one on the plain.

Cottages dotted along the sides, rising evenly as the hill did. At the top sat a large building, which I assumed was the Golden Hall Gandalf had mentioned before. I glanced over at the Wizard, about to ask when he answered.

"Edoras, and the Golden Hall of Meduseld. There dwells Théoden, king of Rohan, whose mind is overthrown…" He paused for a moment, studying the city. "Be careful what you say. Do not look for welcome here." He nudged Shadowfax into movement; the rest of us followed shortly after. Within moments, we had reached the gates, entering swiftly. Aragorn and I were a bit behind the others, so only we saw the green flag with a white horse land just outside the gates. Aragorn looked up at the gate, I stared at the flag. But it was forgotten as soon as we entered the city itself.

The people were not particularly welcoming. We received sidelong glances, suspicious looks, and whispers from them instead of greeting like I had been expecting. They all wore black, and even the children were quiet. I did not think it normal, and apparently Gimli agreed: I heard him murmur from up front, "You'll find more cheer in a graveyard." I nodded my agreement though he couldn't see me.

A short while later, we were approaching the great hall on foot, our horses having been stabled elsewhere. As we reached the top of the stairs, guards came through the door, blocking our entrance. One of them, a Man with long red hair, spoke to Gandalf, "I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhem. By order of Grima Wormtongue." I shuddered, my hand falling to Narsūl who still hung by my side. I was unwilling to let these Men take her. But I was given no choice; Gandalf nodded to us. The other guards moved to take our weapons.

Legolas handed his bow and quiver over easily, then whipped his knives out of the sheathes on his back. Gimli grumbled but handed his ax over as Aragorn and I unbuckled our swords and handed them over. I did not give them my dagger. They could not see it, so I was not giving it to them. I thought I should at least have one weapon. Once they had all- or almost all- of our weapons, the Man paused, looking at Gandalf with apology in his eyes.

"Your staff," he said simply, obviously not wanting to ask it of the Wizard. Gandalf noticed this too.

"Oh, you would not part an old man from his walking stick!" The Man thought about this for a minute then nodded slightly.

"Very well, Gandalf. Enter." Gandalf winked at us as he took Legolas' arm; slowly he led the way into the Great Hall of the King of Rohan.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King!" he called as our small company entered the throne room. Behind us, I heard the sounds of the door closing and locking behind us. I grew nervous, already looking about me surreptitiously looking for an escape route should it be necessary. My gaze flew back to the throne as the old man there spoke in a quavering voice.

"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" Then I saw the oily, black-haired man who knelt at the king's side, who I assumed was this Grima Wormtongue the man at the door had mentioned. Immediately I did not like or trust him. I liked him even less when he rose from his place after muttering something to the king to address our party.

"Late is the our in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest." Gandalf also seemed to dislike this man, as he spoke next in a hard, steely tone.

"Be silent." He glared daggers at the oily Man, continuing, "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm." I winced slightly at that, but I had to admit the old Wizard had a point. I watched closely as Gandalf raised his staff, aiming it at the oily Man's face.

"His staff!" he cried, falling back in fear. "I_ told_ you to take the Wizard's staff!" Immediately, Men from the shadowed areas of the hall attacked us, no doubt hoping to take Gandalf's staff from him. Legolas and Aragorn leaped to defend the Wizard as he moved towards the old King on the throne.

"Théoden, son of Théngel! Too long have you sat in the Shadows!" I glanced away from the king and Wizard for a second, having spotted movement out of the corner of my eye. The oily Man was trying to wiggle away, hoping to avoid notice; with a growl, I drew my dagger from my leg sheath, keeping it hidden until I was nearly on top of him. Then, I shoved him back and knelt on his chest, my dagger right under his chin.

"I would stay right there if I were you," I hissed at him, my eyes narrow. He shrank back from me, going even paler than he had been before. I had to force away a grin, glad that I could still intimidate Men without really even trying. I glanced back at the dais after making sure the oily one was not going to get away to watch what Gandalf was doing.

The Wizard was standing before the king, one hand outstretched, and the King was laughing at him. "You have no power here," he said, a sneer to his voice, "Gandalf the Grey!" He continued to laugh right up until Gandalf threw his grey cloak aside, revealing his true glory as a White Wizard.

"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound!" His staff pointed directly at the King's head, Gandalf forced the Man back into his throne.

He leaned forward as much as he could, growling, "If I go," and now his voice had changed, and I thought I recognized the new one, "Théoden dies!" A blonde woman appeared from a door to one side, attempted to run to the King, but was stopped by Aragorn. She did not try to escape him, staring at the King instead.

Gandalf spoke again, power in his words, "You did not kill me. You will not kill him!" He pressed his staff forward again, and the King groaned before trying to shove his way forward again.

"Rohan is _mine_!" Then he lunged forward, and I felt all his power gathered in one spot. It wasn't enough, and Gandalf roared, "Be gone!" and threw his power against the other. The power of our Wizard prevailed, and I saw a shadow of something or someone fly out of the King. He collapsed forward; the woman that had entered rushed to him to catch him. Before my eyes, he changed, losing years. The film across his eyes faded, his hair was no longer white and overgrown. He once again became, not a young man, but one who appeared far more kingly than he had previously.

So this was Théoden King.


	18. Evil Tidings

**i just noticed i has not been giving y'all translations for the random elvish lines... whoops... I SORRY! here's a link to the site i've been using: it's got all the elvish lines from all three movies, plus its great if you (like me) wish to learn elvish... :D there you go!**

**I do not own LOTR much as i wish i did, but riana and cri belong to me!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Eighteen: Evil Tidings<p>

The King of Rohan slowly turned his eyes to the woman standing before him. He seemed to have a little trouble focusing for a moment; finally he smiled slightly, whispering, "I know your face… Éowyn." He lightly brushed her cheek, repeating her name. I had to look away; such a scene was too close to home for me. I turned my eyes to Legolas, who was still watching, as Gandalf said,

"Breathe the free air again, my friend." I sighed softly, debating whether I could sneak out. Under my dagger, the oily one tried to throw me off. I glared down at him.

"I really suggest you not try that anymore. Next time, my knife may be just a hair closer," I hissed at him, hoping to threaten him in to stillness. It worked; he did not move an inch after that. I returned my attention to the dais as one of the King's men stepped forward, a ceremonial sword in his grasp. Slowly, the King reached out, his fingers delicately exploring the pommel before moving to grasp the hilt of the sword. Hesitantly, he drew it; the blade whispered smoothly free of its scabbard. Théoden stared at it in amazement, almost as though he had never seen it before.

The oily Man strained against my grip again; I growled at him, attracting the attention of the King and those who stood by him. Théoden spoke to a pair of guards that stood not far from where I knelt. "Throw him out." I was roughly pushed aside as they grabbed the Man by the arms and dragged him towards the doors. I glared at their backs as a pair of hands helped me to my feet. I glanced back irritably to meet the equally frustrated eyes of the Elf.

"Men…" I muttered; Legolas smirked slightly and nodded in agreement. Gimli came to stand by us. "They could not have simply _asked _me to move? I would have gladly done so…" I grumbled, causing the Dwarf to snicker into his beard. "Truly." He just looked at me; I shrugged. "Most likely, anyway." Legolas grabbed my arm, pulling me towards the door as a ruckus was heard from outside. We exited the hall to see the oily Man on the ground, backing away as quickly as he could from a very angry Théoden.

"I've only ever served you, my Lord!" he cried, fear in his voice, and no regret. Théoden stalked towards him, his naked sword a definite threat.

"Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!"

"Send me not from your side!" Now he was beginning to annoy me. Men and their whining. They were almost as bad Dwarves!

Théoden also seemed to think the oily one was wasting his last breaths, as he swung his sword up with a snarl, preparing to bring it down on the black Man's head. The one on the ground shrank back, throwing his hands up as though that would save him. The King began the downward swing that would end the other's life.

A call from behind him stayed his hand for but a moment. "No, my Lord!" Aragorn pushed past a pair of guards to grab Théoden's arm, "No, my Lord!" The King turned to glare at him, but Aragorn refused to be cowed. I was proud of him; few Men could stare down a King and not back down. "Let him go," our friend whispered, adding, "Enough blood has been spilled on his account." I thought about that for a second; the Man did have a point there. Apparently the King thought so, too, as he slowly brought his sword down, although the piercingly furious expression never quite left his eyes.

Aragorn turned to help the other Man to his feet; all he got was a spit from the other before he rose on his own power and shoved past the waiting civilians. A moment later, I hear him clearly cry, "Hail, Théoden King!" before flying out the gates on a black horse. Théoden turned back to the rest of us, bemused, as the villagers knelt before him, Aragorn among them. I refused to kneel, as did Legolas and Gimli; after all, this was not _my _king. I did lower my eyes for an instant out of respect but brought them back up at the King's next words.

"Where is Théodred?" His voice was soft, confused. "Where is my son?" I felt a sudden hush come over everyone present and had to wonder why. No one answered the King's question; instead, Gandalf took him by the arm and led him away swiftly. I glanced over at Legolas, wondering if he had any idea what was going on. He shook his head just slightly. I sighed.

"I was not even aware the King _had_ a son," I grumbled softly, making sure to keep my voice down. The people here thought I was Mortal, like the rest of them. If they knew I had no idea who Théoden or Théodred were, I did not like to consider their response. Legolas put his hand lightly on my shoulder, guiding me away from the masses before deigning to answer.

"He did, and that is the problem."

"What?"

"His son died shortly before our coming. Théoden was not aware of his surroundings, although I am certain he was told. Théodred was the king's only son and heir." I stared at him.

"Truly? Then who is the woman, the one who he called Éowyn?" I asked, truthfully wanting to know. Legolas sighed softly.

"I am not certain, but I believe she is his niece. Her brother, If I heard correctly, is the Man we met in the Riddermark. His name, I heard, is Éomer." I nodded; now that he had mentioned it, I saw the resemblance between the woman and the Man we had met some days before.

"I wonder…" Legolas glanced back at me, so I continued, "I wonder if anyone is going to tell Éomer he is allowed to come home now?" Legolas spread his hands and shrugged slightly, telling me he didn't know either.

**(I'm sorry, I have to do another time skip here… don't really feel like going through more depressing stuff for someone we don't really meet…)**

We spent several dark days in Edoras. The funeral for the Prince of Rohan had been the day before, but still a black mood hung over the city. Few voices were heard on the streets, and those that could be were hushed. The entire city was still reeling in shock from the loss; it was too great to even think about.

Legolas, Gimli, and I spent much of our time elsewhere, away from the dour city folk. I had found that the very top of the stable where our horses were provided a satisfying view of the countryside whilst getting me away from the people in the lower city. Legolas would sometimes join me; Gimli, never. He would sit at the bottom of the ladder, either smoking a pipe or drinking a mug of ale. The Dwarf rarely spoke when the Elf and I were up in the rafters, but it was lovely to have his silent companionship.

The Elf and I also spent a good deal of time just by ourselves. We grew closer over those few days, him being the only one besides Gandalf who knew my secret. He had begun teaching me Elvish during our trek here and had decided that now was a fabulous time to crush as much of the language in as he possibly could. In return, I began teaching him the rudiments of my people's language: Amluglambe. The Tongue of Dragons, literally, but few of our great cousins spoke it anymore. The language I had grown up to speak was a mix of this tongue and Common, but I knew how to fluently speak Amluglambe. And so, our days passed.

It was odd, seeming safe for so long. I was not surprised when it ended.

Our third day began like the others, but it did not take long before it changed to something very different. Around midmorning, when most of our small company were about to depart on our daily activities, Gandalf swiftly entered the Hall, leading two children by the hands. Éowyn moved immediately to take them, setting them at a table not far from where I was now standing. The Rohan woman then called for a servant to bring the children warm soup and drink. The serving woman curtsied and scurried off. Éowyn grabbed a blanket and gently placed it around the girl's shoulders.

Once certain the children were looked after, Gandalf rushed from the hall, no doubt in search of the king. I stayed where I was, as did the others, in case Éowyn needed our help. She did not, and the King entered with the Wizard on his heels not long after. By this time, Éowyn had managed to get the children's story out of them; she rose swiftly as the king settled on his throne.

"They had no warning. They were unarmed," she told the King, tucking the blanket more firmly around the little girl, gently shushing her when she asked after her mother. Théoden covered his face with one hand, obviously distraught. I grew nervous.

Gandalf spoke then, sparing little concern for the King's delicate position. "This is but a taste of the terror Saruman will unleash. All the more potent for he is driven mad by the fear of Sauron." The Wizard paused briefly before setting his hand on the arm of Théoden's throne. "Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight!" From the table where I stood, Aragorn added,

"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak. Éomer is loyal to you; his men will return and fight for their king!" Théoden shook his head, and I cursed his stubborn Mannish pride.

"They will be three hundred leagues from here by now! No, Éomer cannot help us." Gandalf rose and started forward, but the King spoke before he could, "I know what it is you want of me, but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war." I started to grumble, but Aragorn beat me to it.

"Open war is upon you, whether you'd risk it or not." Théoden glared at him, not appreciating that input in the least.

"When last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was King of Rohan!" he snapped. Gandalf interrupted before things could get even more out of hand.

"Then what is the King's decision?"


	19. Lost

**i do not own...  
>I'm sorry this chapter sucks so badly... writer's block decided to take up residence in my head, and so this chapter DOES NOT meet my standards... i hope you'll read anyway and leave me some feedback... hopefully the next chapter won't suck so badly... <strong>

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Nineteen: Lost<p>

The air was chilly that night, as it had been for a few weeks now. The trees had a slight coat of frost on them in the mornings now, as did the tiny figure that moved, slowly as if in great pain, through the forest. The figure wore little besides a tattered grey tunic and black pants. His feet were pushed into black boots that had worn away in many places, leaving his toes open to the air. His cloak had recently been torn to shreds by a thorn bush he'd tripped into; what remained had been turned into bandages for the worst of the thorn scratches.

Cri whimpered as another cold gust of wind tore through his tiny body. It really wasn't all that cold; but he had nothing left on his body to protect himself. All during these long weeks of wandering, he had not been able to hunt for himself. Riana had done all the hunting; Cri had just cooked what he could and ate that. She did the rest; it had been an unspoken agreement that she would never leave him. But she had. He could not bring himself to be angry at her; after all the black creatures had taken him far, far away from where she would ever find him.

He vaguely remembered being grabbed by the black creatures many weeks ago, a foul hand over his mouth to keep him from answering his sister's frantic calls. Cri remembered them binding his hands later then gagging him. He had fought them, but he was small for his kind and they were far stronger. They had asked him who he was, and then laughed at him when he couldn't answer through the gag. He wondered what they wanted from him, but they never told him.

Instead, they took him far away from where he knew his sister was headed. The black creatures bore him southwards, away from the mountains, away from his sister. He was kept bound, gagged, often being led by a rope around his neck like a dog. They laughed at him, always, teasing him for his weakness. They knew what he was, but they knew he was weak. They knew he had not yet come into his full power as a dragonling.

And so they were taken by surprise one day; they had pushed him too far.

The morning of his freedom dawned like just the rest. They kicked him awake, jerking him against the ropes that bound him to a tree. Several of them jeered at Cri as the leader untied him from the tree before binding his hands behind him and double checking the gag. Cri growled at him as best he could; the animal just cackled at him as it tied the rope mercilessly around the dragonling boy's slender neck.

"Not so tough now, are you, boy? What you gonna do now, boy? Roast me?" It roared with laughter then, yanking the boy after him by the rope with no care for whether he could breathe or not. The dragonling lad tried to snarl, tried to fight but could do little more than jerk his head back. The animal just jerked him forward again, grinning. "You can't roast me, can you? Just a little baby. That's all you are, baby dragon. Just a weak little baby, ripe for the taking." Cri glared at him, knowing it had little effect. The creature paused a little while later; Cri stumbled to a halt beside it.

"Although I think I would have preferred your sister… She would have been great fun to break. You're too easy, baby dragon." Cri snarled at the insult to his sister. Riana would never have been captured in the first place! He glared angrily at the creature, shaking his head. It smiled at him, revealing broken, pointed teeth. "You don't agree? Boys, he's disagreeing with me!" The others howled at him as the leader pulled him up by the rope around his neck, smirking when he gasped for breath that would not come. "Perhaps you'd like to share your opinion, baby dragon?" Cri glared as the creature ripped the gag away from his mouth for the first time in over a week before dropping him roughly. "Speak, baby dragon."

"She would never have been caught by you! She would have killed you!" The creature growled at him, kicking him fiercely in the ribs.

"And you know that? What makes you so sure?"

"It's Riana! She would never be so easy to catch!" Another kick was his only reward, knocking the wind out of him. Cri gasped for breath as the others joined the leader in mocking him and kicking him. He felt ribs crack and pain blossom up his chest and back. They just laughed at him.

It was when the next kick came that something changed. He felt something break inside him, and a power the likes of which he had only felt from Riana before surged through him. His blood began to sing as he fought to break the ropes binding him. They burned away in seconds and he grabbed the foot coming towards his face seconds before it would have hit. The creature howled in shock and not a little fear as Cri threw it. A ball of fire followed it, burning the creature to dust. Slowly the dragonling boy turned to the others, the rope leash still dangling from his neck. Snarling freely, he tore it away and threw it down.

The black creatures screeched in fear as the boy they had believed to be too weak to do anything other than make a small fuss attacked them with something close to the full strength of his kind. Cri's rage took over his childlike mind, destroying what rationality his sister had instilled in him.

It wasn't long before all that was left of the creatures were their blackened, slightly crispy corpses. After that, Cri wandered, his mind still locked inside the irrational fury that had woken his dormant powers. It was this, more than anything that ate his strength and nearly destroyed his human body. After a time, he simply could not sustain those powers any more. They nearly killed him.

**(yes another time skip… this time, we meet somebody ELSE new!)**

Cri wandered among the trees after he escaped for several weeks before anyone new appeared. He watched them silently from afar as they caught food, two tiny rabbits, and cooked them. He could smell the cooking stew from where he hid among the rocks and small shrubs not far from where the pot was.

There were several of them, perhaps ten in total. They were Men by the looks of them, all tall and stronger than Cri even on his best day. They carried a variety of weapons: bows, knives, swords. Cri wished he had a weapon of his own, but all of his had been destroyed when he killed the creatures. Instead, he opted to hide from them, but followed closely in case they had any leftover food he could steal.

A few nights after he found the Men, he saw that they had left their pot unattended for a brief moment. Excitement and hope clawing for top spot in his stomach along with the hunger pains, Cri crept forward, his eyes only on the pot. So when a hand snapped out of nowhere to grab his shoulder, he was startled nearly into attacked the holder. He whirled and would have bitten the hand had another not come out of nowhere to pull him away and pin him against a strong chest. He glared up at the Man in front of him, a tall Man with sandy blonde hair.

"Who are you? Where did you come from?" Cri blinked at the questions but did not answer. The Man stepped closer, repeating his questions. After a moment, Cri answered him, his voice soft.

"My… My name is Cri. I… Where am I?" The Man stared at him. The young dragonling lowered his eyes, his long brown hair covering most of his face.

"You are in Gondor, lad," the Man holding him answered. "The one you address is Captain Faramir, son of Lord Denethor of Gondor." Cri was confused. Denethor? Gondor? The only places he knew were Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains where he was grew up. He chose not to answer.

The other Man, Faramir, seemed less trusting than the one behind Cri, asking, "What are you doing out here? No one comes out here aside from servants of the Dark Lord." Cri grew nervous, thinking they were going to treat him like the black creatures had.

"Please, don't hurt me, I just wanted something to eat! Please, please don't hurt me!" he cried, cowering back against the person behind him. Faramir stared at him, at a loss of what to do.

"I am not going to hurt you, boy. How long has it been since you have eaten?" Cri couldn't remember and told him so. The Man sighed. "Come, let him go. He truly does need to eat something, if he cannot remember the last time he had." Cri sighed, his stomach cramping with his need to get something in it. The Man looked back at him, asking, "How did you get out here, lad?" Cri shuddered, shrank in on himself as he remembered the black creatures, and refused to answer. Faramir watched him for a long moment before pulling the boy against him.

"It is no matter. You will stay with us for now. Perhaps when we return to my City we can find where you belong." Cri relaxed into the Man's arms, as safe as he would be with his sister.

Perhaps, if he stayed with this Man, Faramir, he would find out what had become of Rianadra.


	20. Revelations

**yay, more adorable Cri... anyway, as usual, i do not own lotr characters, but anyone unfamiliar is mein... :D and sorry for the rather abrupt ending... it would have gotten a bit too long if i kept going... :D**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Twenty: New Friends<p>

Cri groaned softly in his sleep, his eyes twitching nervously; every once in a while, he shifted, arms and legs flopping around in no order whatsoever. He rolled over, curling his hands under his chin, his legs tucked close to his body. His dreams were not pleasant ones, but they were not as bad as they could be.

_Cri stood perfectly balanced on a tree branch, smiling happily down at his big sister. "Look at me, Riana! Look!" She looked up with a light chuckle._

_ "Be careful, Cri! Don't go too far out; I won't be able to catch you!" The young dragonling nodded but completely ignored the wise advice. Slowly, he put one foot in front of the other, moving farther and farther out on the branch. He was proud of himself for going so far out without getting hurt. He thought he could go farther, and so he tried. But then, the branch made a creaking sound that he knew could not be good and heard Riana yell, "CRI!" He tried to turn around and go back, but his feet got tangled together; he tripped then and fell._

_ "RIANA!" he screamed as he fell. He flailed around, his wings scrabbling for purchase in the air, purchase they couldn't find. Branches came out of nowhere to hit him in the face, stomach, and legs; one, he hit with his head. Cri cried out again as he saw the ground come up to meet him; he hit hard and heard something snap. His arm screamed in pain as his mouth echoed it. His screams trailed off into quiet whimpers as Riana rushed to his side._

_ "Cri…" She gently pulled his arm out, shushing his quiet whines. "Oh, brother, I told you to be careful." Riana stroked his brown hair back, trying to smile. "I'm afraid it's broken, little brother," she told him after testing his arm to see how badly he had injured it. A few tears escaped his eyes, but he forced them back._

_ No crying. It was their rule._

_ He did not cry a little while later when Riana forced the bones back into their proper positions; he did not cry as she carefully splinted his arm. He did cry a little when she gazed at him with that disappointment. __"Cri… __When I tell you to be careful, I truly mean it!" she told him softly, her eyes filled with pain for him. "I do not enjoy doing this, you realize. He nodded, shamefaced._

_ "I'll be more careful, I will!" he promised, and she smiled._

_ "I'm sure you will, little brother. Broken bones tend to teach lessons for themselves." She sighed, and sat down next to him on their shared cot. "So I hope to not see you testing your wings by falling out of trees in the future." He nodded._

_ "I promise!"_

Cri jolted awake when he felt Faramir's hand on his shoulder. Orange eyes turned to the Man's blue ones, confused. Over the past few days, he had become more accustomed to the Man, but Faramir was the only one he trusted. When he saw the others behind him, the young dragonling flinched back. Faramir gently squeezed his shoulder, a slight smile on his face.

"My men and I must leave for a little while, little one. You may either come with us, provided you stay out of trouble, or wait for us here." Cri shuddered, glancing around. The Men were staying in a series of caves, almost like a small city inside a mountain. Although this made the dragonling slightly nervous, the proximity of the Man he trusted made it bearable. The thought that he would have to stay here without him made Cri very anxious.

"I… I will come with you," he said softly. Faramir nodded.

"Very well then. Come with me; we need to get you properly outfitted, lad." Cri rose slowly, his joints still stiff with sleep, and followed the Man to a room he had not entered before now. Faramir addressed an older woman wearing a simple black dress and veil, "Can you get him outfitted like the rest of us, Cearien?" She smiled, revealing a missing tooth.

"Of course, young Captain. Come here, lad." She motioned for Cri to stand in front of her. "Oh, but you are tiny, lad. What is your name?" she continued conversationally, moving to gather clothes as he waited.

"Cri, ma'am," he answered, his voice soft, unsure. She scoffed, smiling.

"Oh, don't you 'ma'am' me, lad. It's just Cearien to you." She moved past him, gently shoving him out of her way as she grabbed a cloak of a thick green cloth of the wall behind him. "Let's just see if these fit, shall we? Faramir, help him." Trying not to grin, the young Captain tugged Cri behind a curtained corner as Cearien tossed the pile of clothes she had picked up after them.

Suddenly nervous, Cri pulled his ruined tunic off and allowed Faramir to help pull a dark grey shirt over his head, then a leather jerkin with the symbol of a white tree on it. The Man set to the lacings while Cri watched, fascinated. The shirt fell down to his knees, slits running up to his hips; the jerkin stopped where the slits did. Faramir, smirking, turned around once that was done, telling Cri, "Take those pants off boy, and put the other ones on." Awkwardly, the boy did as he was told, pulling the new brown leggings on. "Are you done?" Cri nodded then remembered that the Man could not see him.

"Yes." Faramir turned back, smiling.

"Much better, lad. You do not look like a starved beggar anymore. Now, put this on," he tossed the green cloak around Cri's shoulders, "and fasten it like so." He tied the two ends together before clipping them in place with a simple metal brooch. "There!" He pulled Cri out from behind the curtain, revealing him to Cearien. "Much better, do you not agree?"

Cearien nodded, smiling her gap-toothed smile again. "All he's missing now are boots, right, lad?" Cri looked down at his shoeless feet and nodded; Gaenry bustled about for a moment before returning with a pair of sturdy brown leather boots in her hands. "Here you are lad. Let's see these on you!" Cri sat down on a nearby stool, pulling the boots on then tucking the leggings into them. He carefully laced them up then stood. Cearien smiled broader when she looked at him. "Oh, you look wonderful, Cri!" Cri decided he liked this woman and ventured a tiny smile for her. He did not see Faramir start grinning broadly behind him when he realized he had given the boy a new friend.

Cri turned when Faramir addressed him again, "Lad, are you certain you wish to join us? You may, if Cearien is agreeable, remain here with her." Cri thought for a minute.

"Are you going to fight, Faramir?" he asked softly, a worried crease to his brow. He detested fighting, especially after what the Orcs- as he now knew the black creatures were called- had done to him. He quailed inside when Faramir nodded.

"We have received word that several companies of Southrons are passing through the area, on their way to Mordor. We hope to lower their numbers, even if only a little." Cri shivered. Faramir noticed and gently laid his hands on the boy's shoulders. "If you do not wish to join us, you do not have to. I asked you only because I know this place is uncomfortable without a familiar face in it." Cri sighed, relaxing into Faramir's hold as the Man carefully pulled him closer. He did not notice Cearien leaving to allow the two of them privacy.

"I think I will stay here, if it would not bother… Cearien."

"I am sure it will not, lad." Faramir pushed Cri back, and studied him, a serious look on his face. "I do wish you would tell me what your story is, Cri. You know how to fight; you showed us this when we found you. And yet, you refuse to do so. I understand you have your reasons, but I wish to help you. I cannot do that unless I know what it is that troubles you." Cri sighed.

"Please…" Before he could finish, Faramir shook his head.

"Not now, lad. When you have, perhaps, come to feel safe." He hugged the confused dragonling then, adding, "Remember, lad, I only ask because I want to help you." Cri nodded against the Man's chest, his arms squeezing him as strongly as he could. After a time, though, Faramir pulled back. "I must go. Stay here with Cearien until I return." Cri nodded, and Faramir strode purposefully off. Moments after he left, Cearien returned.

"So, lad, you decided to stay here with me, did you?" Cri nodded. "Well, that will be a nice change. I spend so much of my time alone, see. Do you know, you remind me of my grandson." She switched topics so quickly, Cri almost grew dizzy. "He is very much like you: little and quiet, shy-like." He smiled at her, wondering about her grandson.

"What's his name?" he asked her. She smiled, her eyes distant.

"His name is Gwinry. He is thirteen years old, in a few weeks." She smiled fondly, wistfully. "He lives out in a village near the border of our country and Rohan. Some days, I fear for him. That area is not safe. Saruman the White rules there, much as the Dark Lord has great power here." Cri was confused, but chose not to comment. "But it does not matter. Gwinry's father knows what he is doing. If the danger gets too great, he will return to Minas Tirith." Cri yawned then; embarrassed, he covered his mouth with his hands, his face flushed. "Faramir woke you, didn't he? Silly boy. You need rest, lad, you are still healing. Come."

Cri followed her out of the room with the clothes and down several hallways until they stood before a simple wooden door. Cearien smiled gently down at him. "This is where I do much of my work. If I am not in my workroom, I am here. They all know where to find me." She opened the door and gently but firmly pushed Cri inside. "Come, lad, you may sleep here for now." She led him to a small cot in the corner by a tiny fireplace. Cri looked back up at her.

"Do you sleep here?" She laughed boisterously at him, and he turned his face away.

"I do indeed," she told him a moment later, "but I do not need to rest for a while yet. You lay yourself down; I will wake you when the young Captain returns." Cri chose not to argue anymore, as he was still exhausted. He lay down, allowing Cearien to cover him with an extra blanket, and was asleep within seconds.

He woke many hours later when Cearien gently shook his shoulder. He looked up at her, confused by her expression. "Faramir has returned, lad, but he brought someone with him. I swear, if he keeps finding lost sheep in the wilderness, I don't know what we are going to do with him!" Cri snorted with laughter; seconds later, Cearien followed him. "Now, up you get, no, not out the door! Get back here, you little scoundrel!" Cri had moved towards the door only to be stopped when she grabbed the back of his jerkin. "Eat something, then you can go!" Cri turned pleading eyes on her, but she ignored him, dragging him back over to a place at her table.

A single, steaming bowl sat there with a large spoon next to it. Cearien pushed him into the seat in front of it. "Eat all of that, lad, before you go." Obediently, Cri grabbed the spoon and proceeded to shovel what he discovered to be a rather tasty stew into his mouth. Cearien found this hilarious and concerning at the same time. Through peals of laughter, she cautioned him, "Careful there, lad. Don't choke yourself!" Cri stopped suddenly, the spoon halfway to his mouth. For a second, Cearien's voice had become Riana's. He set the spoon down, no longer hungry. Cearien looked at him closely, worry in her eyes. "Something wrong, lad?"

"No." Cri kept his response short, not quite caring how curt he seemed. "Nothing." By the way she kept glancing at him as she went about her business, he knew she didn't believe him. Nevertheless, she asked nothing of him after that. He was glad, as he would not have been able to answer any questions. His throat closed up as images, memories, of his older sister flooded him.

In order to stem the flow, he stood and told Cearien, "I am going to find Faramir. Thank you, Cearien." He bowed slightly, but even her shocked smile couldn't lift his spirits.

"Very well then, lad. Come back if you need anything, all right?" Cri nodded and left the comfort of the old woman's home, rushing to find Faramir. It didn't take anywhere near as long as he had thought it would.

He entered the main cavern just as Faramir did, but the Man didn't see him. Instead, the Captain had eyes only for the two tiny figures in the center of the cavern. Cri stopped just short of them, listening to Faramir.

"My men tell me that you are Orc spies." One of the two small men did not like that very much, glowering at Faramir.

"Spies!" he exclaimed, sounding offended. "Now wait just a minute!" True to his nature, Faramir responded evenly.

"Well, then if you are not spies, then who are you?" Cri wanted to know that himself, mostly because he had never seen such small men before. They were even smaller than him!

After a moment during which the two exchanged glances, the one with dark hair answered Faramir's question. "We are Hobbits of the Shire. Frodo Baggins is my name, and this is Samwise Gamgee."

"Your bodyguard?" Faramir interrupted, completely straight faced. The one called Sam glared at him.

"His gardener," he grumbled in response. Faramir raised an eyebrow but did not comment on that. Instead, he returned his attention to the other, called Frodo.

"And where is your skulking friend? A gangrel creature. He had an ill-favored look." Frodo seemed a little nervous but his voice was strong when he answered,

"There was no other." Ignoring Faramir's skeptical expression, he went on, "We set out from Rivendell with seven companions. We arrived with two of my kin, a Dwarf, also, and an Elf. And two men: Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Boromir of Gondor." Faramir went to ask something, but Frodo added something before he could. "Another, we came across close to the mountain Caradhras. Her name was Rianadra, she said." Cri gasped, as Faramir asked then the question he had been meaning to.

"You are a friend of Boromir?" Cri bounced as he waited for a chance to ask after Riana. It had to be his sister! This Hobbit knew his sister!


	21. Catching Up

**hello again lovies! here we are with chapter twenty-one, officially making this the longest story i have ever written! whoo! *holds up applause sign* hopefully i didn't just jinx myself... wouldn't that be just my luck... anyway!**

**as usual, i do not own lotr characters, but anyone you don't recognize belongs to me (Rianadra, Cri, and Cearien)**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Twenty-One: Catching Up<p>

Cri listened closely as the Hobbit answered Faramir's question. "Yes, I was." He hesitated before adding, "For my part." Faramir turned away, hiding his face. Cri started to move forward but stopped when the Man turned back.

"It would grieve you, then, to learn that he is dead." Frodo gasped; Cri glanced at him, wondering if he had known. The dragonling's question was answered a moment later,

"Dead? How? When?" Frodo's shock was as obvious as his pain was sincere. Faramir closed his eyes for a moment.

"As one of his companions, I'd hoped you would tell me." Frodo stared at the Man as Faramir went on, "His horn washed up on the riverbank six days past. It was cloven in two." Faramir swallowed hard then continued with a tearful voice, "But more than this I know it in my heart. He was my brother." Cri felt his jaw drop. No wonder he felt such kinship with this Man: he also had lost someone close to him, a sibling. Granted, Cri may still have a sibling. He had to ask the Hobbit later.

"Faramir?" the young dragonling asked softly, stepping past the Hobbits who were staring at him in surprise, having not noticed his presence before. "Are you… Are you well?" Faramir tried to smile at him, but Cri saw how hard it was. He did not answer. Instead, he gently clapped the boy on the shoulder and moved past him, idly brushing a hand across his eyes. Cri turned to look at the Hobbits, left standing there on their own. He had to ask after Riana, and now was his best chance. "You said there was a girl named Rianadra with you?" The dark-haired one, Frodo, blinked at him.

"Yes," he answered faintly, as though his mind was not fully there. The other, Sam, spoke more plainly.

"There was, but who are you to ask this?" Cri swallowed, not sure whether it was wise to answer. After a brief moment of staring between him and Sam, Cri decided it was safe.

It took a couple of tries to speak past the lump in his throat. "She… Rianadra is… I am her brother." They both turned to ogle at him at that.

"What?" That was Frodo; Cri heard the disbelief in his voice and was slightly insulted.

"Did she not mention me?" he asked softly. It would not surprise him in the least if she had not; Riana was a private person by nature. She rarely even told him all that was going on. If she was injured while hunting, he would only find out by walking in on her changing the dressings.

"She told us very little about who she was, aside from her name. None of us thought to ask." That was so like Riana, Cri thought, shaking his head slightly. "What?" Frodo asked, catching the headshake.

"That is just so like her. She… is not typically the most forthcoming of d- of people." Cri swiftly covered his slip-up, having almost said "dragonling". Frodo did not seem to have caught it, but the other looked at Cri closely. Luckily, he had no chance to say more as two Men came to take them somewhere. Cri turned to one of them as the Hobbits were led away.

"Where is Faramir?" The Man shrugged.

"Off by himself, lad. He has his places, and we know not where he goes most of the time." Cri sighed softly, wondering if he ought to go find the young Captain. He was about to go find him when the guard lightly touched his shoulder. "Leave him be for now, lad. He needs some time alone." Cri nodded, glancing after the Hobbits.

"Am I allowed to go talk to them? Or does Faramir wish them to be left alone?" The guard tilted his head slightly, thinking.

"I see no reason why you couldn't, lad. But if Faramir tells you to leave later, do not argue with him," he said grinning at the last part. Cri huffed, trying to maintain an indifferent expression and failing. The Man laughed softly at that, giving the boy a small shove in the direction the Hobbits had been taken. "Move on, lad." Cri waved a hand back at him and trotted off. He was still worried about Faramir, but he figured the Captain would come to him once he felt ready.

The dragonling boy peeked into several different rooms before finding the two Hobbits in a tiny cellar-type room. They looked a little wary of him at first, but Cri just smiled slightly and sat down next to the blonde one, Sam. "Did you really see Rivendell? What was it like?" he asked, excitedly. He and Riana had heard the Mirkwood Elves talking of the beautiful river city before, but neither of them had seen it. All they knew was that it was supposed to be gorgeous. Both Hobbits exchanged glances, obviously wondering if he was asking for the Men. "I am here only because I want to be, I promise. My sister and I have heard of Rivendell but never seen it. Is it really as beautiful as they say it is?"

Sam answered him after a moment, "It is more than they say… What did you say your name was?" Cri blinked, having not realized he had neglected to tell them his name.

"Cri. And you are… Sam, correct?" The blonde nodded, smiling slightly. "Well? Tell me all about Rivendell, and where you come from!" Cri wiggled excitedly, not caring how silly he looked.

Sam laughed softly at him, "All right, all right. Well, Rivendell is even more beautiful than they say. Words simply do not do it justice. The entire city is right by these huge waterfalls, and the river flows below it. The buildings are… It is impossible to describe, really." Cri grinned happily, imagining a place like that, with a waterfall and Elven buildings. The only ones he'd seen were the ones in Mirkwood, and those only from a distance Riana had not thought it safe to get any close, although Cri knew she was just as curious as him. Sam grinned back at him before adding, "As to the Shire, where we come from, well. It's a lot brighter than here, that's for sure. We live in houses under hills, with huge gardens in front. I tend to mine, my old Gaffer's, and Mr. Frodo's." The other smiled faintly at Sam.

"I wonder… How is that garden doing without you to tend it, Sam?" Sam shrugged.

"I dunno, Mr. Frodo. Probably looking rather sad, since no one else can care for it like I can." The two laughed softly, but Frodo still seemed nervous. After a moment, he turned to Cri.

"How long have you been here?" Cri thought about that for a minute. Faramir had found him about three weeks previously, but they had only arrived here a few days before. He told the Hobbit this, noting the odd look on his face. "You were separated from Riana? How did that happen?" The young dragonling shuddered, his mouth snapping shut. He was not talking about his captivity with anyone except perhaps Faramir. Frodo looked at him sympathetically with large blue eyes; Cri turned his face away shamefully. It was his weakness that had allowed them to take him in the first place; it was his weakness that always caused Riana pain.

"Cri?" Cri whirled around, nearly falling while sitting down, at Faramir's voice. He sounded oddly subdued, but the dragonling lad chose not to comment on that. "Cearien was asking after you, lad. She said you rushed out on her rather abruptly earlier." Cri lowered his eyes sheepishly. "She is rather worried about you. Perhaps you could go talk to her?" The boy knew when he was being dismissed, and left quickly; however, he stopped outside the door, wondering what Faramir wanted with the two Hobbits.

"You must come with me," Faramir said firmly, his voice considerably less friendly than with Cri only seconds before. "Now." Cri hissed softly in panic as the two exited the room. Faramir raised an eyebrow at him; Cri blushed.

"I… I can't remember how to get to Cearien's workshop from here…" he trailed off, embarrassed. Faramir smiled gently at him, gesturing to another soldier. "Guide him there, would you?" The Man nodded, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible; everyone there knew of Cri's skittishness with everyone but Faramir, and now Cearien.

"Come on, lad." When Cri looked like he was about to dive behind Faramir, the Man held his hands up slightly. "I am not going to hurt you, boy. On my Captain's life." Faramir scoffed but gently pushed Cri forwards.

"He's not jesting, lad. Go on, Cearien's waiting for you." Cri sighed but warily followed the other Man, straining to hear what Faramir said to Frodo; he heard little more than faint murmurs. The guard didn't speak, for which the young dragonling boy was grateful. Instead, he simply let Cri around a series of turns, pausing to make sure the boy knew which direction they were taking. Before too long, they stood outside Cearien's door again. The guard knocked then smiled down at Cri, who managed a slight upward curve of his mouth that vaguely resembled a grin. Then the Man walked off as Cearien opened the door, smiling.

"Cri!" she exclaimed, her smile widening. "Come in, lad, come in! You don't have to knock, you know?" she told him, adding, "Tea?" while offering him an empty teacup. Cri shook his head slightly but was ignored as she forced a now-full cup into his hand. "I put some honey and sugar in there, lad. Drink up!" He lifted it to his mouth and took a careful sip; his eyes widened and he took a deeper gulp. Cearien smiled happily, ushering him into a chair by her fireplace. "Sit," she ordered him, bustling about for a few minutes while Cri drank his tea. Finally, she relaxed into a rocking chair across from him, a roll of yarn and a pair of knitting needles on her lap.

"Now, lad," she said, her voice quiet, gentle, "I am not going to ask you to tell me what was bothering you earlier. But, if you want to tell me, I won't stop you." Cri sighed deeply, staring into the flames. The only sounds heard for a long while were the gentle clicking of her knitting needles as she worked. Finally, Cri turned to face her.

"I am not human." She stopped knitting and looked up at him. Since he saw nothing containing fear or hate, he kept going, "There are not many of my kind left, as far as I know. My sister and I are among the last that were not hunted down by Men fearing our powers and our strength." He sighed, turning back to the fire to avoid her gaze. "I am neither immortal nor mortal, Cearien. We are longer-lived than Men; some of my kind have lived to be several thousand years old." He heard her gasp and went on, "It may be easier for me to show you what I am rather than tell you…" He trailed off, waiting for her permission.

"Show me, lad." He smiled at the gentle tone to her voice and stood. He closed his eyes, focusing on the power that kept his secret hidden from Mortal eyes. After a moment, he felt the weight of his wings settle onto his back as his tail twitched slightly behind him, wrapping around the chair he had occupied. She gasped; he turned to meet her awed gaze, waiting for her to speak. She obliged him a moment later, in an awed whisper, "Dragonling…"

Cri nodded, glad not to hear anything negative in her tone. "That is what I am, Cearien." She gently touched his face, turning him to face her.

"I am sorry for what my race has done to yours in the past, lad. I feel neither hatred nor fear for you. I have long wanted to meet one, if only to see if the legends are true."

"And are they?" He hadn't even known there were legends about his kind. Most of the dragonlings did not think any race wanted to remember them as anything other than violent killers. Cearien smiled at him.

"They are, lad. They are, indeed."


	22. Falling

**as usual i do not own... :D but i do own riana, cri, and cearien... :) sorry for the sucky battle scene... helm's deep will be better, i promise!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Twenty-Two: Falling<p>

Several days passed after the King announced his decision: for the people of Rohan to flee to the safety of Helm's Deep. I was less than impressed with Theoden, but I could understand his desire to avoid more death than was necessary. However, I agreed with Gimli, who had grumbled as soon as we were out of the King's earshot, "Helm's Deep, huh! They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight! Who will defend them if not their king?" I had shrugged as Aragorn tried to console the irritated Dwarf,

"He is only doing what he thinks is best for his people. Helm's Deep has saved them in the past." Gimli was still huffing over that three days later when the entire population of Edoras prepared for the five-day trek to Helm's Deep.

I glanced around me from the back of the horse I had been given, a spirited mare named Arluin. Aragorn had told me that while Hasufel was strong, he could not carry two people for the length of time we would be moving for. I sighed, watching Legolas try to help Gimli up onto Arod as the citizens of Edoras moved past them slowly, heading for the gates. Theoden moved past me, riding a proud white horse, but I paid him little mind, thinking of what Gandalf had said before he left us again.

"There is no way out of that ravine. Theoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he is leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre." I looked around me at all the people of just one city. According to the King, the entire population of Rohan was going to be in this Helms Deep refuge. Gandalf was right. Theoden was unwisely putting all his people in one place, an easy target for anyone willing to sacrifice great numbers. And, based on what I had heard, I assumed this Saruman was just so willing. That worried me. Greatly. And the King did not listen to reason; he led his people into a place where there would be no escape.

But I had to remember the Man's words, that Theoden was only doing what he thought best. It was only an unfortunate occurrence that between Edoras and Helm's Deep, his people would be even more exposed than they would be anywhere else. They had the elderly, the sick, wounded, women unskilled in battle, and children with them. To all of that, there were only a small spattering of guards for the entire column. Theoden had, to my eyes, obviously not thought this through very well.

I was brought abruptly out of my musings when I heard Gimli call my name. "Riana! Come on, the King wants to move out!" I nudged Arluin gently; she trotted forward easily. For someone who had never ridden before in my life, it was odd that the mare and I got along so well. So far, none of the others had commented on it, but I did not expect the reprieve to last.

I rode close to Legolas and Gimli, who generally stuck close to Aragorn. He was shadowed almost all the time by Eowyn, which I would not have minded if she did not spend so much of her time making lovesick faces at Aragorn. I was honestly shocked that no one else had noticed that, especially Aragorn. The Man was usually so perceptive, I found it difficult to believe he had no idea what was going on in the woman's mind. She was not really trying very hard to hide it.

The second evening of our trek, she approached me and Gimli, who was watching me rub Arluin down, with a steaming pot of stew. I caught a whiff of it and turned away, hiding my face. I slid around the horse, mostly to avoid the woman, listening as she offered some to Gimli. He graciously turned it down.

"I couldn't, I really couldn't." Undaunted, she approached me with the same hopefulness in her eyes. For once I was glad of my people's ability to go many days without food.

"Thank you, lady Eowyn, but I am not hungry." I smiled at her; again she seemed unbothered, moving on to the next closest member, which happened to be Aragorn. He would take it; he was too kind not to.

"Lord Aragorn?" I heard the woman ask, her voice oddly shy. "I made some stew. It's not much, but it's hot." I peeked around Arluin's side in time to see Aragorn take a bite of the stew. I bit back a peal of laughter as he bravely tried to hide a grimace. I was right to have refused it! Aragorn forced a smile for Eowyn.

"Mm! It's good." To my ears, it was only too obvious he was lying through his teeth; Eowyn didn't hear it.

"Really?"

Aragorn grunted noncommittally in response, looking back down as though he were going to eat more. Eowyn turned to leave. After sneaking a quick glance, the Man started to pour the bowl out, but was forced to stop when she turned back. Some of it spilled onto his hand. He winced, but hid it well. She didn't notice.

"My uncle told me a strange thing. He said you rode to war with Thengel, my grandfather. But he must be mistaken!" Aragorn smiled slightly.

"King Theoden has a good memory. He was only a small child at the time." I dropped the rag I was holding at that. Aragorn then had to be…

Eowyn seemed to be thinking along the same lines, "Then you must be at least sixty!" Aragorn, grinning, shook his head. "Seventy?" He shook his head again. "But you cannot be eighty!" His grin widened into a full-blown smile then as he told her,

"Eighty-seven." Eowyn stared stupidly at him for a moment.

"You are one of the Dunedain, a descendant of Numenor, blessed with long life. It is said that your race has passed into legend!" Huh, I thought, so Aragorn has some secrets, as well… I smiled as Aragorn told the lady,

"There are still few of us left. The Northern Kingdom was destroyed long ago." Eowyn looked like she was going to ask another question, but when Aragorn looked pointedly at his stew, she blushed.

"I'm sorry! Please, eat!" Relief on his face, Aragorn poured out the remains of the stew while giving both me and Gimli warning looks. I grinned at him.

"I didn't see anything!" Turning to Gimli, I asked him, "Did you, Master Dwarf?" Gimli caught on immediately and grinned at me.

"See what, Lady Riana? I saw nothing." Aragorn rolled his eyes at us before wandering off elsewhere. I patted the Dwarf on the shoulder then turned back to make sure Arluin was settled for the night. "We should rest, Lady Riana," Gimli said a moment later, serious now. "It is another long trek tomorrow."

The next day dawned just like all the others, but I woke with a dark feeling hanging over my head. I glanced up to see a bright sky, glowing with the sunrise. There was nothing to support that eerie feeling, and yet it would not go away. I looked around me, spotting Legolas standing not far from me.

"Legolas?" He turned to smile faintly at me, coming to crouch next to me. "Does anything feel… off… to you?" He tilted his head slightly, blue eyes studying me. After a moment, he shook his head no.

"I do not. Do you?" I nodded, glancing around me again.

"It is not close by, but it will be on us today, whatever it is." He brushed my shoulder briefly.

"Keep your eyes open. You may notice it before anyone else."

**(yes, another time skip… but i wanna get to the fun stuff!)**

It turned out I was right around mid-afternoon that day. The column was moving a little slower now; we all were tired: the horses and the people. If we were going to be attacked, it would be now. And I wasn't the only one who knew that.

Two horseman rode past me, heading for the hill the company was moving towards. My feeling of doom from that morning grew; I leaped onto Arluin, checking to make sure my sword was slightly loosened from her sheath. Seconds later, I was riding after them, ignoring a quiet shout from behind me. Legolas met me at the top of the hill, having spotted my expression.

"Is this what you feared?" I nodded, not trusting my voice to answer. He turned back as we heard a shout from behind us along with panicked whinnies. I dew my sword and spun Arluin in time to see a great wolf-like creature throw one of the two Riders aside like a ragdoll. Legolas raised his bow; an Elven arrow shot by my head to hit kill the wolf creature. As it fell, it threw its rider to the ground. I leaped forward to stab it through the throat, Narsul gleaming in the sun. I heard Aragorn shout from behind me as I pulled my sword free from the thing's throat.

Legolas yelled back, "A scout!" before shoving the body over with his foot. I turned Arluin back to face forward, catching the faint cries of wolf-like barks from a nearby hill. Legolas drew an arrow back, readying it for when they came over. They didn't keep us waiting long.

A horde of the creatures flowed over the hill a few moments later. Legolas let his arrow fly; I heard the thunder of hoof beats from behind us as he released another. I kicked my horse forward as the column of riders caught up with me. Narsul sang through the air as we rode towards the creatures. Not a moment later, we collided.

Horses screamed in pain as they were bitten and scratched by creatures armed with claws and teeth. Men yelled battle cries as they hacked and slashed. I stayed quiet, my horse all business, as my sword sang a gleeful battle song. Once again, I felt my arms being guided by whatever power had been forged into my blade, but there was no telltale glow. For that I was thankful. Wolves came at me, their riders waving curved swords and daggers. I snarled at one that dared come too close before slicing its throat open with a single twist.

A sound from behind me Arluin rearing and spinning on her hind legs. By some miracle, I stayed on and was able to deflect a blow that may well have killed me. Narsul slipped down the blade to get tangled in the other's hilt. I twisted, hard, forcing the Orc to release its weapon; my sword flew around in a semicircle, embedding herself in its chest. With a jerk, I freed her and stabbed the creature attempting to tear my horse's throat out.

After a time, I tuned out everything but the two to three Orcs and wolves that decided to attack me at the same time. I kept Arluin backing away, lashing out at them whenever they came within reach, which wasn't often. I cursed, glaring daggers at the nearest one. I didn't want to resort to my powers, but it was looking like I would have to. One of them raised its weapon but was shot down by a Rohirrim arrow. I grinned at the marksman as another went down, this time by an Elven arrow. Before either could claim the last prize, I kicked Arluin forward, slicing the Orc's head from its body in a swift motion before stabbing the creature below it. They both collapsed to the ground.

Then the sounds from the rest of the battle came to me. It seemed to be over: Riders chased the remaining few creatures away from the wounded. I turned Arluin, hoping to catch a glimpse of my companions. I saw Gimli crawl out from under a pile of two wolves and an Orc and Legolas move to catch Arod. But I did not see Aragorn. Apparently, Gimli realized this, as well, as I heard him call the Man's name.

"Aragorn?" Legolas took up the call when he did not answer.

"Aragorn!" I leaped off my horse's back, moving to stand by Legolas, the feeling of doom back in my chest. I did not call for the man; instead, I rushed over to the edge of the cliff, a dark premonition washing over me. As I stood there, staring over the edge, I heard an Orc laugh behind me.

"Tell me what happened," Gimli growled as I spun around, "and I will ease your passing!" The Orc snickered.

"He's… dead. He took a little tumble off the cliff!" I whirled around again, looking for any sign of our friend. Gimli joined me; I heard Legolas hiss behind us,

"You lie!" The choking laughter of the Orc stopped before it could answer. Seconds later, the Elf joined me and Gimli at the cliff's edge, a shining necklace held in his hand. He stared out across the water, a bewildered look in his eyes. I lightly touched the back of his hand as the King spoke from behind us.

"Get the wounded on horses. The wolves of Isengard will return." He paused for a moment then added, "Leave the dead." Legolas and I whirled to face him, the Elf with a look of stunned, angry disbelief. I just stared at the King, baffled. Theoden sighed, laying his hands on our shoulders. "Come."

I turned back to the water one last time, cursing Orcs and the darkness that had come over our land. It would not take another of my friends from me.

Never again would I lose to the darkness.


	23. The Joy of Flight

**and back again with chapter 23, in which something y'all have been waiting for for a long time now happens! :D as usual, lotr people belong to tolkien, not me, but riana, cri, and cearien are mein! enjoy!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Twenty-Three: The Joy of Flight<p>

The ride back to Helm's Deep was much quieter the exodus from Edoras had been. Most of the men were either wounded or too dispirited for talk. The trio that included me, Legolas, and Gimli were among them.

We rode silently, our horses directly next to each other. My hand was held tightly in Legolas', with Gimli's resting on top of ours. Arluin and Arod, normally disliking being so close to each other, made no move to pull away; I think they sensed their riders' need to be close to each other. Each time we stopped, the three of us stayed a little apart from everyone else, lighting our own fires and tending to our own wounds. None of us had escaped the battle with the Wolves of Isengard unscathed, after all. Our minds, our spirits, and our bodies were all broken.

This war was going to be the death of us, I was almost sure of it. We would not die at the sword of the enemy; no, they were going to kill our spirits as we watched our friends die. The toll just kept rising, and I could only stand there and watch it. But I was through with that. No longer would I stand idly by as my friends fell around me; no longer would I let the darkness in my heart defeat me.

I sat by Legolas on what a Rider said was our last night before we would reach the relative safety of Helm's Deep. I saw in his eyes the same turbulent emotions that raged in my heart: anger, pain, sadness. Once again, I laid my hand on his; he stirred briefly, sky blue eyes meeting my purple ones.

"Is this ever going to end?" I asked him, my voice quiet. Gimli was snoring on the other side of the fire, but I wished to not wake him. He needed his rest, as did we all. We had all been having trouble sleeping over the past few days; I had woken several times last night alone to soft cries from Legolas. He did not remember them, as I did not remember the times he woke me when I cried in the grip of a nightmare.

He sighed softly, jerking me out of my depressed tailspin. "When the Dark Lord falls, Rianadra. This will end when the Dark Lord falls." I felt my heart harden again as I glared southward in the direction I had been told the Dark Lord's lands lay. His hand tightened around mine, gently pulling me back towards him. Again, I felt the lines of our friendship going grey as I ended up leaning against his side, my head tucked between his chin and shoulder. He idly played with my fingers again while we both stared into the embers of our earlier fire.

We stayed that way all night; when Gimli jolted awake the next morning at the sound of a horse's neigh, he saw us curled together, Legolas' blonde hair mingling with my silver, our hands joined. The Dwarf raised an eyebrow but made no comment, opting to go fetch something for us all to eat before we set out on the last leg of our journey.

I rose, disentangling myself from Legolas, and went to fetch our horses. Arod and Arluin had stayed close by, despite not being tethered the night before. I smiled as my beauty came trotting up to me, white Arod only a couple of hoof-lengths behind her. "Hey, _mellon nīn_," I said to Arluin as Arod nudged me with his nose. "And to you, too, silly boy." He whickered softly at me, brown eyes intent on my face. These horses were our best friends, after each other. They never spoke, but their unfailing devotion and understanding to us was what kept all three of us sane, I thought.

Legolas groaned softly behind me; I turned to see him stretching, his back popping a little as he worked the sore spots out. He came over to me when he was done and took Arod's reigns from around his neck. He smiled faintly at me as Gimli came up to us, three bowls balanced precariously in his hands.

"Breakfast, my friends," he said, his voice subdued. I took one from him that was about to fall as Legolas grabbed the other. We ate in silence, and soon were ready to join the rest of the Men as they prepared to move out for the day. I swung myself onto Arluin's back, settling into the saddle as though I had been there for much longer than a week and a half's time. Again, I felt it odd that I should be so accustomed to riding, since I had never learned to ride. I pushed that to the back of my mind as unimportant.

We rode hard all that day, and by late afternoon, we were within sight of Helm's Deep. It stood before us, as much a part of the mountainside as a face of flat rock. A tower stuck up from the center, standing straight into the air above the mountain itself. The causeway lead up to the gate after a slight turn, and the great wall stood there like a gray sentinel. I wondered why it did not make me feel safe as it obviously did those Men around me.

I glanced at Legolas and Gimli, who were riding a little ways behind me. Legolas was eyeing the wall in the same way I was, with a hint of uncertainty in his gaze. Gimli just looked ready to get off the horse and stand on his own two feet. I sighed as we rode swiftly across the plains leading up to the causeway. The gates swung open as we came up to them, and I heard the cries from inside.

"Make way for the King! Make way for Théoden!" The call echoed around the gate for a moment as our company entered the keep in a clatter of horses' hooves and the jingling of armor. Stable boys moved forward to take charge of the Men's mounts; Legolas and I opted to care for our own. Gimli, as soon as he was steady on the ground, moved off, his eyes intent on something. I watched him as Éowyn rushed up to her uncle.

"So few," she exclaimed, her voice anxious. "So few of you have returned." Around her, the people went quiet, waiting to hear Theoden's explanation. The King glanced around him before answering.

"Our people our safe. We have paid for it with many lives," he said, moving to help a wounded guard down from his horse. Eowyn turned, her eyes distant, to meet Gimli as he came up behind her. She met his eyes.

"Lord Aragorn?" Ah, so she had noticed his absence. I swallowed hard and felt Legolas brush the back of my head. I glanced back, trying to smile at him as she asked, "Where is he?" Gimli, in a choked, broken voice, answered,

"He fell." I turned away then, unable to accept the reality that Aragorn was dead. Legolas tried to stop me, but I ignored him as I leaped astride Arluin again and turned her towards the still-open gate. I nudged her, and she shot down the causeway, faster than I could have run. We rode for a long time, stopping only when I no longer felt it safe to keep pushing my horse as hard as I was.

Stars wheeled above me as I swung off her back and landed silently on the ground. The magic that kept my wings and tail hidden faded, and I felt their weight settle behind me. I sighed, staring up into the starry sky, biting back streams of tears. I had never shed so much as a single tear in about thirty-odd years, and it seemed I was doomed to make up for lost time now. I blinked them back, remembering what I used to be able to do when I felt this way.

Fly.

As I looked up into that sky, I felt an urge to leave the earth behind me and soar stronger than I had ever felt before. The desire to join the stars above me, and fly freely as I once did flowed through me, and for the first time in far too long a time, I answered.

My wings stretched out to their fullest span, muscles that had gone unused for a long time stretching. I crouched slightly, bending my knees, my eyes still glued to the starry sky above me. Without a second thought, I pushed upwards with my legs while my wings beat down, hard. I shot into the sky, the wind whistling in my ears as my long silver hair flowed out behind me. I closed my eyes, letting the joy and the freedom of flight fill me.

Every few seconds, I would beat my wings again, the movements as natural as breathing. I found an upwards warm draft, and soared on it, barely moving my wings; my tail acted as a rudder, keeping me from going every direction the draft did. When it ended, so high up I could see the lights of Helm's Deep in the distance, I found a falling draft and dived with it. My hair flew behind me in a star-lit banner as tears flowed from my eyes. I told myself they were only because of the wind, but in my heart, I knew they were for Aragorn. Aragorn, Boromir, Gandalf, Merry, Pippin, Frodo and Sam. And Cri, Legolas, Gimli, and for myself. I wept in the air for the pain we had all suffered, and for the pain I knew was yet to come.

I stayed in the air for hours, rising and falling with warm and cold tunnels. Finally, a glow in the eastern sky told me the sun was beginning to rise. Slowly, I began to fall back towards the ground, my wings pinned to my body. Faster and faster I fell, screaming purely for the thrill of it. The ground where Arluin grazed, waiting for me, rushed at me; at the last possible second, my wings snapped out, grabbed the air, and I turned so I was soaring horizontally over the ground at a speed similar to what I had just been falling at. A few seconds later, my wings tilted on their own, and my feet swung towards the ground. I landed lightly, running a few steps to keep my balance as my momentum carried me forwards. A light laugh escaped me as the thrill of flight filled my veins.

That laugh changed to a small shriek when a voice spoke from the shadows by my horse. "You are beautiful when you fly, Rianadra." I relaxed some at the sound of my full name, since only two people used it.

"Legolas!" He emerged from the shadows, his eyes filled with awe as he stared at me. "Don't _do_ that, Elf, you startled me!" He smiled slightly at me in apology.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you." I glared playfully at him.

"Startle is different from frighten, Elf." His grin broadened; he shrugged.

"Either way, you are truly beautiful when you fly free like that." He stepped forward, sliding his arms around my shoulders, as he added, "In Lorien, I told you that you would one day fly again." It was as close to "I told you so" as he would come, and I had to chuckle softly at it, leaning against him.

"You did tell me that, Legolas. And it looks like you were right." Then a thought struck me and I leaned back to look up into his face. "How did you get here?" He quirked an eyebrow. "You followed me?" Legolas nodded, whistling. Arod stepped out of the trees to start grazing next to Arluin. I sighed. "I should have known…" He shook my shoulders slightly.

"You had me worried, rushing off like that, Rianadra." I leaned against him again, folding my wings around us both.

"I am sorry for that," I whispered, "but I could not face it." He didn't need to be told what "it" was. Instead, he placed his chin on the top of my head, his arms tightening on my shoulders.

"We all are suffering," he told me gently, pushing me back a moment later to study my face. I looked down; he pushed my head back up, his grip on my chin gentle but firm. "You do not have to hide this from us." I wondered what "this" could mean but chose not to ask him. Instead, I studied his face in the light of the rising sun, and a thought struck me.

The lines of our friendship had been fading from black and white to grey for over a month now. I wasn't even sure if we were just "friends" anymore. And as I looked at him now, seeing the look in his eyes as he gazed back, I realized I didn't want to just be friends. My wings tightened around us, pulling him closer to me. He kept his gaze firmly locked onto mine; the sun slowly grew in strength as we just stared at each other. Finally, I had to tell him.

"Legolas-" A finger on my mouth stopped me; he smiled down the few inches between our heights.

"This is not how friends act, is it?" he asked softly. Mute, I shook my head just a little, and the corners of his mouth tuned up. "Then are we just friends?"

"I don't think I want us to just be friends…" His face split into a remarkably happy grin at that, although his eyes remained serious. Ever so slowly, he pulled his finger away from my mouth. Still smiling, he leaned in until his face was inches away from mine. Our eyes locked again and finally, he crossed the last few inches and gently, oh so gently, touched his mouth to mine.


	24. A Long Night Part I

**i do not own lotr characters, but riana, cri, and cearien are mine :D enjoy!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Twenty-Four: A Long Night (Part I)<p>

The kiss Legolas and I shared stayed on my mind that entire day. It was not deep, nor long, but it was just special enough that I could not forget it had I even wanted to. I thought of it as we rode back to the Keep, as Legolas left my side to go speak with the Dwarf. From what I gathered, Gimli was none too happy with me for running off the night before and not returning till daylight. I understood his anger, but it had been the only thing I could think of to do at the time.

The Elf and I did not get much of a chance to talk throughout that day. We were set to different tasks inside the walls: him to help reinforce gates and other weak places, me to help the women. I grumbled my way down to where most of the people were behind the great wall, looking for Éowyn. When I didn't see her anywhere I had been told she would be, I decided to act more as lookout than a useless woman. I snuck to the top of the great tower and stayed there.

And so I was the first to see the lone horseman as he approached the causeway on a dark horse.

I leaped from the tower to the stairs and nearly fell down them in my hurry to find Legolas. By the time I reached the bottom, I heard Gimli yelling, "Where is he, where is he? I'm gonna kill him!" I laughed and rushed to find the Elf. Gimli's words had proven my initial thoughts: Aragorn, miraculously, had returned to us.

Finally, I caught sight of the Elf standing by a window with a hammer and a plank of wood in his hands. "Legolas!" He turned to me, his blue eyes distant. I stumbled to a halt in front of him, babbling in my excitement, "He's back, he's back, he's not dead!" His baffled expression had me laughing, giddy as I was. He patiently waited until I was serious enough to actual explain what had me so excited, "Aragorn!" Understanding dawned in Legolas' eyes and he moved to go past me. I scuttled after him, watching how swiftly and urgently he moved. How had I not noticed that before?

Shaking my head, I focused back on Legolas as he finally stopped, directly in front of a slightly-dazed Aragorn. I studied the Man as he ungracefully stopped in front of the Elf. He looked a bit worse for wear: paler than normal, slightly out-of-it, with a small bruise and cut on his left bicep. But he was walking, and he was alive; right now, that was all that mattered. I came to stand by Legolas as he said something in Elvish that had Aragorn grinning. Then the Elf gave the Man a quick once-over and added in Common, "You look terrible."

Aragorn chuckled at that, meeting my slightly annoyed gaze with a smile. "What is it with people dying and then coming back to life?" I growled, glaring at him. "You all are going to be the death of me!" That got even Legolas laughing softly as he held something shiny out to Aragorn. A closer glance revealed it to be the necklace he had rescued from the Orc at the battle with the Wolves. Aragorn accepted it carefully, his gratitude shining in his eyes. "_Hannon le_," he whispered. I could only assume that meant something along the lines of a thank-you. Aragorn then looked over at me as he fixed the necklace around his neck again.

"Legolas, Riana, Gimli," I glanced over to see the Dwarf coming up behind Aragorn and hid a smile, "we must talk to the King, now." His face was completely serious again, and I sensed a great urgency coming off him. I nodded and felt Legolas grip my hand tightly. Aragorn noticed and raised an eyebrow; the Elf and I only raised ours in response. Aragorn shook his head slightly and led the way to the King's Hall.

I hung back for a second as Aragorn pushed the doors open, listening with glee to the shocked gasps from inside. Once that was over with, Legolas, Gimli, and I slipped in and pushed the doors shut.

"A great host, you say?" Théoden was saying when I finally returned my attention to their conversation.

"All Isengard is emptied," Aragorn responded firmly.

"How many?"

"Ten thousand strong at least." I felt the bottom of my stomach drop at that. We had maybe two to three hundred men. Ten thousand… Théoden echoed my thoughts.

"Ten thousand?" Aragorn met the King's distressed gaze evenly.

"It is an army bred for a single purpose: to destroy the world of Men." The King turned away slightly as Aragorn added, "They will be here by nightfall." So, I thought, the King wished to avoid war, but that is all he shall get… I watched Théoden as he turned away from us, catching the solid look on his face.

"Let them come!"

I stared after him in utter disbelief. He could not be that prideful… As the King marched past us, calling for the captains and commanders, I decided he was. Either that or he was crazy. I glanced over at Legolas and Gimli to see similar expressions to what I was sure was on my face on theirs. I rushed to follow them as they moved after Théoden.

I caught up with them just as the King was speaking to one of the captains, "I want ever man and strong lad, able to bear arms, to be ready for battle by nightfall." The Man bowed slightly and rushed off. Théoden walked quickly down towards the main gate and the causeway, moving past the Men who were working diligently to brace the gate. He stopped just outside the gate and looked out across the valley before us. "We will cover the causeway and the gate from above." He gestured to those areas as he continued, "No army has ever breached the Deeping Wall or set foot inside the Hornburg."

Gimli was less than impressed with the King. "This is no rabble of mindless Orcs," he grumbled in his typical dour fashion. "These are Uruk-Hai. Their armor is thick and their shields broad." Théoden glared down at the Dwarf.

"I have fought many wars, Master Dwarf. I know how to defend my own Keep." He brushed pat Gimli without a second glance; Gimli just stood there, glowering out across the vale. I gently nudged his shoulder.

"Come, Master Gimli. He will come to realize you are right," I told him with a small smile. Gimli nodded briefly and followed me as I ran to catch up to Legolas. When we reached them, Aragorn was telling Théoden in a hard voice,

"They do not come to destroy Rohan's crops or villages; they come to destroy its people, down to the last child." Théoden spun around and grabbed Aragorn's injured arm.

"What would you have me do?" he snapped softly. I only heard him because of a dragonling's extended hearing. "Look at my men. Their courage hangs by a thread! If this is to be our end, then I would have them make _such_ and end as to be worthy of remembrance." Aragorn stared at him impassively as the King moved to walk away. But before he could get very far, Aragorn called to him,

"Send out riders, my lord! You must call for aid." When the King turned back, ready to make another rebuttal, I stopped paying attention.

"His pride is going to be the death of his men," I muttered to Legolas and Gimli, who were standing near me. Gimli grumbled a response, which I could only assume was agreement. Legolas just squeezed my hand briefly.

"We know what these Uruks are capable of." He paused for a moment, watching as Théoden marched angrily away from Aragorn, calling to his men. "We will fight them," the Elf continued after a moment, "and the others will follow." I nodded, glaring at Théoden's back as he ordered for the women and children to get to the caves. I was fairly certain he would try to force me to stay in the caves, and that simply would not do.

"If he tries to get me to stay in the caves…" I growled, causing my companions to grin or laugh. "I will not stay there, no matter what he says." Legolas patted my shoulder as everyone rushed to start preparations for that night.

Aragorn seemed to be everywhere at once, refusing to allow himself any time whatsoever for rest. He was over by the gate helping them strengthen it one minute, and the next he was on the wall, deciding where the heaviest guard should be and what the most likely targets were going to be. I saw Legolas grow more and more concerned for him; I was, as well. The Man was not even remotely close to being fully recovered. He needed to rest.

I was about to approach him when a guard came up to me. "My lady, you should be heading to the caves with the other women and children." I froze then slowly turned to glare at him. "Théoden King's orders, my lady." I just looked at him cooly, laughing inside as he quailed back from me.

"Théoden King is not _my_ king, guardsman. I will stand with my friends." I turned away from him, expecting the matter to be done with. But it seemed the guard was not to be deterred.

"The women and children are to go to the caves," he stated again, grabbing my elbow and preparing to drag me to these caves. There was a very good reason why I wanted to avoid caves. My kind do not mind natural caves- in fact, many hide hundreds of years' worth of belongings in caves- but we do not, as a general rule, like to spend very long in caves. After Moria, I would be ecstatic if I never had to enter a cave again. "Come, my lady."

I ripped my arm out of his grip, snarling under my breath. "I will not go," I snapped again. He and I glared at each other for a long moment then I added frostily, "If you will take sons who have seen too few winters from their mothers to fight, and old men who can barely hold a sword, allow a single woman to join them on the wall." With that, I stalked away, ignoring him when he shouted something at my back, most likely another order to go to the caves. I found Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli in the armory a little while later, still fuming over the guardsman's orders. Legolas was talking to Aragorn, and I gathered it wasn't happy talk from his tone and the tension in his shoulders.

"_Boe a hyn: neled herain… dan caer menig_!" I wondered what he was saying as Aragorn responded in Elvish. The tension in the Elf's shoulders increased, moving down his back. I moved a little closer as he snapped something to Aragorn, despair in his eyes. Aragorn, after that, had had enough.

"Then I shall die as one of them!" he yelled, telling everyone in the vicinity exactly what they had been arguing about. With a final glare, Aragorn stalked away; Legolas made to follow, but was stopped by Gimli's hand on his arm.

"Let him go, lad. Let him be." The Elf turned back to face Gimli and did a slight double take when he saw me.

"I thought you were going to the caves," he said softly. "This is…" I glared at him, daring him to say anything more on the subject. He got my hint and dropped the subject. Wise…

"Come with me, Legolas. You and I need to have another… discussion." He almost grinned at the reference to the other "discussion" we had had those many weeks ago. Gimli raised a questioning eyebrow but wisely chose not to ask. I grabbed the Elf by the elbow and dragged him behind me. I spent a few minutes trying to find a place that wasn't full of people, eventually finding a small room below the tower that held nothing but a table and two benches. I forced Legolas onto one of them and plunked myself down on the other.

We were quiet for a minute then I started in on him. "Legolas… we both know you understand how dire this is." He nodded, blue eyes intent on my purple, "But you don't know just how important it is to allow Men to have hope. Even if the odds are stacked against us, it is vital that warriors have hope. Without that, they cannot win. Even an army several times the size of what we have will be defeated if they have no hope."

"I do not wish to die now, before-"

"No one does, Elf," I grumped, interrupting him. "We all know the odds, and we all know they are almost completely in the enemy's favor. But we must fight them in spite of that. No one here is going to lie down before the enemy and let him win." I scooted closer to him, laying a hand on top of his. "No matter how hopeless it seems, we _must_ fight!" He folded his hand around mine, still focused on me.

"How do you know all this for sure?" I sighed.

"It comes from watching, learning how things like this go. It comes from my very nature." I thought for a minute. "Perhaps we need to get you out of here for a time." He stared at me in confusion, and I grinned at him. "Come." I stood, knowing he would follow, if only out of curiosity. I slipped past Men, heading farther and farther back until we were at the very base of the mountain. No one else was back here, which was exactly what I was hoping. Then I faced the Elf, who still had that baffled look on his face.

"You know already that I naturally have the wings and tail of a dragon. But do you know the other skills a dragonling possesses?" He shook his head mutely, even more bemused. I spread my hands, "This is not the only shape a dragonling can take, Legolas. The other does, however, take a fair amount of power to change to and maintain. As such we do not often assume that other form."

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked me softly. I smiled at him.

"So I can show you the joy of flight. My other form is both large and strong enough to bear a rider, even in flight." Understanding dawned in his eyes; I stepped back a little ways. "You may wish to give me a little more room." He moved back, still watching closely. I grinned at him then released the floodgates that held the greatest of my powers at bay. They rushed through my blood, warming me as only that kind of strength can. I heard the roar of it moving past my skin and bones, then the pain hit.

I screamed, but it came out more as a thunderous roar. The power was changing me; I felt my human shape shatter from it. Only seconds later, everything stopped; all the power returned to a shape, vastly different from the one I had worn only moments before. I turned my great head to look down at Legolas, and my scaly lips pulled back from serrated teeth in a smile. His jaw was on the floor, one hand over his heart.

After a moment, he whispered a single word, the only word that described this new shape of mine,

"Dragon…"


	25. A Long Night Part II

**i no own lotr people... riana, cri, and cerien are mine, so no stealing! oh, yeah, and if you want to know what Riana's dragon form looks like, it's similar to this (http:/ media. / image / horse%20like%20dragon / mustangs_rule / ) only different colors :D and minus the spaces... hopefully the link will work... *crosses fingers***

Chapter Twenty-Five: A Long Night (Part II)

Legolas slowly moved closer to me, his blue eyes dancing around as he tried to take in the entirety of my dragon form. I lowered my head until I was staring him straight in the eyes. Gently, I nudged him with my nose, my breath causing his hair to fly off his shoulders for a second. He met my much larger gaze as steadily has he had before; this surprised me, as I was fairly certain that Elves and dragons do not have the happiest of histories together. His feather-light touch on my scaly nose brought me back to the present.

"This is… incredible, Rianadra." He gently stroked the scales, and I started purring. The rumbling rose from deep in my chest, vibrating out to his hand. He smiled up at me, laughter in his eyes. He scratched under my chin and I nearly plopped down at rolled over like a dog. He laughed softly; I raised an eyebrow ridge at him. "How do we know so little about your kind?" he asked after a moment in wonder. I raised my wings slightly in a shrug along with a quiet growl that was supposed to translate to, "I don't know." He scratched my nose again, and then added, "What was it you were saying about flying?"

The quiet growl turned into a low rumble, a sort of dragon laugh, as I nodded. He smiled, still rubbing circles on the tip of my nose. I shook my head slightly, and lightly took his sleeve in my tooth. I tugged him over to my shoulder where one would mount on a horse. Then I jerked my head slightly, telling him to climb up there and settle where my wings joined my shoulders; he carefully climbed on and settled in exactly the right spot. He shifted around for a minute, clearly unsure of what to do next. I shook my neck, arching it up so my mane touched his fingers. He seemed to get the idea, as I felt his hands firmly grip the silvery strands of my mane.

I glanced back at him with one large eye, wondering if he was ready. He looked a little nervous, but he nodded once. I grinned at him, which only seemed to make him more nervous then I reared back onto my hind legs, my wings spreading out behind me. With a roar that I was pretty sure the Men in the Keep could hear me, I leaped into the sky. From my back, I heard Legolas let out an un-Elf-like whoop as we shot into the sky.

I soared back over the mountains instead of over the Keep, staying low for a time, until I was sure we were out of their sight. Then I headed up into the darkening sky. Legolas kept his grip firm in my mane, his legs tight around my belly. Every once in a while I would glance back at him, to make sure he was all right. The Elf's face slowly went from borderline terrified to wonder to awe and finally to pure happiness. I felt a similar feeling in the bottom of my belly, and I knew I had been right to do this. He had needed to get away and find something to completely distract him. And flying always did that for me; I had assumed- rightfully, it seemed- that it may do the same for him.

We flew into the sunset, the glow turning my grey-purple scales to gold. Every once in a while, I felt him let go of my mane; I roared in response whenever he did. Finally, as the sun sank below the mountains, I turned back towards the Keep. And now that the Elf was feeling confident enough to let go of my mane, I decided I could have some fun on the way back.

As we headed back, I started heading straight up and felt him grip my mane again, tighter this time. At the very top of the rise, I angled down and closed my wings tight to my body. "Rianadr-" before he could finish, I started diving and whatever he was going to say was lost in the roar of the wind rushing through my ears, flattening my mane to my neck. We fell faster and faster; I heard him start to yell behind me. I roared again, sharing my excitement. At the very bottom, my wings flew out again and I rolled over in the air. Legolas yelled behind me.

Eventually, though, I ran out of terrifying tricks to try on the Elf and just flew back to the Keep, landing in the same hidden courtyard I had taken off from. Legolas climbed off my back looking oddly wobbly. I tilted my head in askance; he just shook his head, running his hands through his hair. I nudged him again, trying to tell him to step back a little. He moved away from me to lean against the nearest wall. I laughed softly but chose to remain in my dragon form, eyeing him carefully. He sighed.

"I assume you want me to go talk to Aragorn now?" I bobbed my head and he sighed. "Very well, Rianadra. Are you going to change back?" I shook my head, making a deep rumbling. "I am going to assume there is some sort of reason for this?" he gestured to my dragon form. Again, I nodded. "Very well, then. Where will you be?" I looked back over my shoulder at the mountains. "You will return when the battle starts?" I just gave him a look and nudged him a little less gently. He acquiesced with very little grace and left.

**(yes, another time skip…. i'm seriously getting tired of these, but… yeah, no…)**

Roars split the still night air, and I jerked to attention. Full night had fallen, and a steady rain was falling. Thunder rumbled in the distance, echoing the great cries of ten thousand Uruk-Hais. I tilted my head, listening closely. I did not hear the sounds of battle, so I assumed the actual fight had not started yet.

Slowly, I made my way to the edge of the mountain and looked out across the Keep and the formerly empty Vale. The tiny glows of torches reflected off the armor of the Men and showed me the writhing mass of Uruks in the valley. They were arranged in something resembling order, and I could see the ranks going as far back as the edge of the valley in the distance. There were far too many of them for three hundred Men to fight alone. I rose, stretching my wings as I watched.

The Uruks were still making noise, apparently attempting to frighten the Men, most likely to weaken them before they actually attacked. I inched closer to the edge, trying to decide when would be the best moment to announce the presence of a dragon to everyone down there. My entire body trembled with the urge to soar down there with no regard for my own safety and start roasting me some Orcs. But I held myself back through sheer force of will. I had to wait for the best moment; if I moved too soon, it would most likely do more harm than good.

While I was debating this, the roars of the Uruk-Hai below me changed from challenging to raging. I returned my attention to the Vale in time to see a single Uruk fall as the others around it screamed their fury to the sky. My entire body went tense as I heard a single cry rise above the others and they all steamed towards the wall. My head moved over the edge of the outcrop I was on. Down below me, Uruks began to fall as several Men released volley after volley of arrows. I raised my wings as the rain began to fall heavier. The scene below me gradually grew worse as the Uruks finally closed in on the wall.

Ladders rose from the horde of Uruk-Hai below the wall, and I heard the shouts of Men below me. Streams of the black creatures shot up the ladders as soon as they landed on the wall and then the true battle began. I sat where I was, listening to the screams of dying Men and Uruks. The scene below me changed constantly as the forms moved and shifted around, never staying the same. More and more ladders rose to fall against the wall, allowing hundreds of Uruks access to the wall. I trembled; even as I watched the Men actually hold their own.

This was too easy. There had to be something else, something that I couldn't see. I watched closely, ignoring the battle on the wall, trying to find that one thing I was missing.

Then I saw it: a deliberate shift to the pattern. The Uruks had moved to create a single path through their ranks, giving just enough room between them for two of their own to run through. The two were carrying something between them that I could not quite see. But I did not need to see it; I knew it was dangerous to the Men on the wall. This was the opportune moment.

I dove from the cliffs with a great cry and a small spout of flame. Uruks screamed below me as they saw me, and Men leaped down, with cries of fear. I ignored both, heading straight for the two Uruks moving down the single lane towards the wall. The creatures around them screeched warnings, but the two did not heed them. So they did nothing to avoid me as I came out of the sky, roaring flame out at them. I swooped over them, preparing to make another run around. Before I could, however, something slammed into my left hind leg. I howled in pain but did not change direction. As soon as I could, I peeked back around to see an Uruk spear hanging from the great muscle in my lower leg. I snarled.

Those idiotic creatures were going to pay for that. I landed briefly on the edge of a hill and turned to grip the spear tightly in my teeth; with a deep breath, I yanked it out. Through the spear came a great gout of flame along with a screech the likes of which I had never made before. Whimpering, I turned back to the battle, spotting several companies of Uruks coming at me. Snarling fiercely, I leaped into the air again, a little unbalanced because of the wound in my leg. Despite that, I was nowhere near out for good. I had plenty of fire left in me, and more than enough fight.

Just as I moved to engage in battle again, a great explosion sounded through the night. My head spun back around to the wall, fury building as I saw great stones fly through the air. I had stopped one pair, but apparently there had been another; only one was enough to destroy the wall. Water spewed out through the opening as Uruks fought their way past it. I screamed a challenge and shot towards the gap in the wall. By the time I reached it, there was a company of defenders preparing to fight back. Aragorn stood before a troop of- surprisingly- Elves, shouting orders in Elvish.

"_Herio_!" he cried, rushing forward with his sword flashing by his side. The Elves followed him, their naked swords gleaming in the torchlight. Their war cries echoed through the tiny space as they raced towards the approaching Uruks. I soared above them, hurling fire at the Uruks. Some of the Elves seemed nervous having me around, but, luckily, they were not frightened enough to ignore the larger threat and attack me.

I ignored them; they were nowhere near as dangerous as the hordes of Orcs that were still pouring through the hole in the Deeping Wall. Flame spouted from me into them; my tail acted like a mace, slamming them away from me and smashing armor and Orc-skulls. The Elves and Aragorn were holding their own as best they could, but there were too many. Eventually, they would be overrun. Apparently, someone on the wall thought the same.

"Aragorn!" I recognized the voice as that of the King after a couple of seconds, "Pull back to the Keep! Get your men out of there!" Aragorn started yelling in Elvish again, and I assumed he was ordering his men to retreat. He and a couple of Elves pulled Gimli from the fray, ignoring the Dwarf's angry retorts.

I stayed where I was, covering their retreat as best I could. Fire exploded out of me as I fought them. I clawed at some, lifting them into the sky before dropping them, snapping with serrated teeth, and whipping out with my tail.

I had forgotten how awesome it was to fight in my dragon form. It had been far too long since I had been able to take this form. Despite the pain of my injury, I was still able to hold back over a thousand Uruk-Hai as they continuously poured through the break in the wall.

A cry from the gate caught my attention briefly, and I spotted Aragorn and Gimli defending the broken gate by themselves. I glanced back, debating whether I should leave the wall undefended and help the Man and Dwarf or stay. A swift glance at the gate showed my companions doing fairly well for themselves, which solidified my decision. I stayed by the wall.

The battle moved still before me as I allowed bottled up fury to explode from me, giving this form power greater than even it normally had. Flames shot from my jaws, and my talons glowed red-hot. I sliced through Uruks, roasted them, and generally wreaked havoc. I thought then that perhaps we had a chance of victory, but then I heard a cry from the gate,

"They have broken through!"


	26. An Uncertain Path

**as usual i do not own lotr people, but riana, cri, and cearien are mine! i hope you enjoy this chapter!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Twenty-Six: An Uncertain Path<p>

Cri stood out on a ledge outside the system of caves inhabited by Faramir and his Men. The sun was setting, shooting golden-red rays across the sky, lighting the clouds up like blood. His eyes scanned restlessly across the forest before him; something out there was calling to him, and he truly wanted to answer it, if only he knew what it was.

He glanced back over his shoulder, sighing softly. Not for the first time, he wished he could stretch his wings and just fly. Soar out over the trees, across the plains, and back to the place he knew as well as he knew his own thoughts. He wanted to go home, but more than that, he wanted to find Riana. He had never gone more than a few hours without seeing her or hearing her in the distance. This night marked several months after he had been taken away from her. He missed her, more than he had ever thought possible.

The boy's eyes went blurry for a second. Cri hissed softly, brushing a hand across his eyes, clearing the clouding away. He leaned then against the edge of the cliffs behind him, returning his gaze to the sky before him. The sun had now fallen below the edge of the forest, but he could still see the pink and orange flares left in the sky in its wake. He sniffed, blaming the cold, and wished with all his heart that Riana could be there with him. Cri closed his eyes, trying to imagine she was there, right beside him. It almost worked, but then he felt an actual person by his side.

"I figured you would be out here, lad. What troubles you?" Cri turned sharply to the side at Faramir's voice. "My apologies, I did not mean to startle you." The boy slowly relaxed as the captain settled down on the ground. "What are you doing out here by yourself, lad?" A sigh slipped from Cri's throat as he settled next to the Man.

"I miss my sister…" he whispered, staring up as the first stars appeared. Star light, star bright, he thought, remembering an old wishing game he and Riana would play when they were children. I wish Riana was here… Am arm around his shoulders startled him out of his thoughts.

"I am sorry." A long moment of silence followed that then Faramir asked, "What was she like?" At Cri's confused glance, the Man clarified, "Your sister." Cri sighed, a lump in his throat blocking sound for a moment. He cleared it harshly.

"Riana… is difficult to describe. But she is my best friend. She took care of me after our parents were killed. She made sure we were safe, housed, and that we never went hungry. She's… a very private person, though. If something is bothering her, if she's hurt, or just sad, she won't tell you. She'll go off somewhere and sit on it for days. Eventually, she'll come back and pretend like nothing was wrong…" Cri trailed off as the feeling in his throat came back much stronger than before. He sniffed again, tears gathering in his eyes. "She… she taught me how to survive…" Memories of his captivity shot through him and he huddled closer to Faramir's side. "If it weren't for her, I would be dead many times over now…" That released the dam. The combination of loneliness, homesickness, and still-fresh memories was more than he could handle. A sob escaped him before he could hold it back.

"Cri…" Faramir pulled Cri to him, holding his shoulders tightly. "Let it go, lad. There's a boy," he whispered as Cri released a backlog of emotions going back nearly one hundred years. The Man gently rocked the young dragonling boy, saying nothing, just sitting there. Cri sobbed, tears running down his face in little rivers. He tried to stop it, but it was not possible anymore. "There's a lad…" They stayed like that for what felt like hours, long after Cri's tears had run dry. He did not want to leave the safety of someone who had done for him what Riana had done.

"You're a lot like her, you know," he told Faramir. The Man pushed him back enough to look the boy in the face.

"Really now?" Cri nodded.

"I dunno what it is, but I see something similar to her in you… in the way you look out for everyone here." Faramir hugged him tightly again, shaking. Cri touched the Man's arm, concerned. "Faramir?"

"You speak highly of me, lad. Perhaps a little too highly." Cri shook his head but didn't speak as Faramir continued, "I failed to protect my brother. If only I had gone instead of him. Then Father would have his favorite, and the people theirs." Cri sighed. Self-doubt was a killer, this he knew from many times dragging Riana out of it.

"From what I gather, Faramir, what he did was his choice. And perhaps things will not be the way they are supposed to if this had not happened this way." That made no sense, he grumbled to himself. But Faramir took a deep breath.

"Perhaps you are right, lad." He lapsed into silence, and Cri watched him closely.

"Faramir?"

"Hm?" he answered vaguely, not really paying attention.

"You told me you wanted to know… what happened to me? Because-"

Faramir interrupted, "I wanted to help, Cri. I still do, but not until you are ready to tell me." Cri shuddered, but knew it was past time.

"I think I have to tell you, or at least someone. And it's either you or Cearien. But I don't… I don't want her to know. She doesn't need to know this." Cri dropped his gaze, looking back out into the star-dotted sky. Faramir tightened his grip on the boy's shoulders; Cri sighed. "First, though, to understand, you need to know what I am." Faramir pulled back slightly, confused.

"What you are, lad?"

"I'm not like you, Faramir. I'm… I am not human," Cri whispered, terrified. Cearien had taken it well, but he was not sure Faramir would take it the same way. The look on the Man's face was not quite promising.

"What you then, Cri?" The boy sighed deeply.

"Let me show you." Faramir released his grip easily as Cri slipped away and rose steadily. "It is easier to explain this way, as well." Faramir nodded, watching closely as Cri released the power on his wings and tail. He felt them settle behind him again, and took a deep breath of relief. It felt good to be this way again. His tail twitched behind him, and he glanced back at it. The dark orange scales glittered faintly in the starlight and he wrapped it carefully around one leg before turning back to Faramir. The Man was still staring at him.

"You… You are…."

"A dragonling," Cri supplied. "Cousin to the dragons of old, in a human shape. Yes." Faramir ogled at him, and Cri could have laughed were the situation not so serious. "Faramir?"

"How… I thought they had all died out," the Man whispered, not in anger but simply in befuddlement. "Men tell stories of the last battle between your kind and ours; they say Men won. Apparently it is not so."

"It is mostly so, as there are not many of us left. I know of only myself and my sister for sure. If there are any besides us, they will be hidden away in the deepest forest and the tallest mountains, far away from the threat of Men." He turned away, wings curling protectively around him. "But this is only half my story."

"There is more?" Cri chuckled softly.

"Yes, there is more. Little of it particularly happy." He looked up at the sky, searching for familiar constellations. "Our parents were killed when I was but a child, so do not remember them, or our mountain home. I remember the deep forest of Mirkwood, where my sister Rianadra raised me. We lived there until a great Shadow fell across our safe haven, making it no longer safe for us. So we left. We travelled for weeks, and I was angry. I wanted to stay home, even though I knew it was not safe anymore. It was all I knew, the only place I felt safe." Faramir moved behind him but did not speak.

"I think it was the third, maybe fourth week, when our travels were interrupted. A band of creatures, black-skinned with black hair and armor, attacked us. Riana fought them, and she tried her best to keep them away from me. I had not come into my power yet," he explained quickly, "and so I could do nothing to help her. And I could do nothing when some we had not seen before came out of the forest and grabbed me. They-" he stopped at Faramir's voice.

"You were captured by Orcs?"

"I suppose that is what they were."

"Why?" Faramir sounded horrified. Cri turned back to him, shocked to see not disgust but sympathy on the Man's face. Sympathy and pity. Cri sighed.

"They never told me. They made sure I could not call to Riana, and that I could not escape to find her. Then they took me away. I don't really know where we were going, only that I had not long since escaped from them when I found you." Faramir stood, meeting Cri's eyes squarely.

"That certainly explains a great deal, lad." He pulled the dragonling boy to him again, nothing resembling the expected fear in his voice or actions. Faramir moved to speak again, but was stopped by another voice from below.

"Captain Faramir!" The Man sighed.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Osgiliath is under attack. They call for reinforcements!" Faramir pulled back from Cri immediately.

"Fetch the Halflings. Prepare to depart immediately!" He turned back to Cri. "I know you may wish to stay here, but I will ask you anyway. Do you wish to come with us? It will mean battle, most likely against the creatures you so recently escaped from, lad." Cri shuddered, but a strange feeling came over him. A longing, stronger than he had ever felt before, but more than that, hope.

"I do not wish to go…" Faramir nodded and turned to leave. Cri stopped him. "I don't want to go, but I think I must." The Man turned back to him.

"Your sister." It was not a question, but Cri nodded anyway.

"If you will give me a moment, I will be ready soon. I have nothing to gather." Faramir nodded.

"Go, say your farewells, and meet us by the front gate, Cri." Cri nodded and shot off, hiding his tail and wings again as he did so. By now, he knew his way around the caves well enough to be at Cearien's door within a few moments. He did not even bother to knock on the door, knowing she would be inside.

"Cri!" she exclaimed, having been interrupted in her knitting. "This is unexpected… What on Earth is the matter, lad?" He panted for a minute, trying to catch his breath. She made a move to rise but Cri shook his head.

"The Men are leaving for Osgiliath, wherever that is. I feel I must go with them." Cearien settled back in her rocker, her face a mask of shock. After a moment, she sighed deeply, sadly.

"Although it pains me to say it, lad, I think you are right. Perhaps you can find your sister, eh? Then I can meet this famous Rianadra." Cri laughed then launched himself across the room to grab her in a hug.

"I will miss you, Cearien. Thank you… for everything," he whispered as she hugged him just as fiercely back.

"You are welcome lad. Just make certain you return to me so I _can_ meet this sister of yours. I admit you have made me very curious!" They shared a laugh and a deep look. Then Cri threw his cloak around his shoulders and left, waving back over his shoulder to the old woman standing in the doorway.

Moments later, he stood before Faramir, two Halflings, and his host of Men. Cri stood strong, meeting their eyes.

"I'm ready."


	27. Burning Cities

**as usual, i do not own the lotr characters... but riana, cri, and cearien are mind :D**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Twenty-Seven: Burning Cities<p>

The host of Men travelled quickly after they left the caves. Cri moved with the same sort of purpose as the rest, although he was not quite certain why. All he truly understood was that there was something ahead of him that called to his heart; he had to follow it. There was little desire left in Cri's mind. Now, it was necessity. He had to know what was calling him, be it his sister or something else. But it was necessary that he discover it.

There was enough left to his own mind to keep an eye on Faramir. Ever since they left the caves, the Man had been acting differently. Gone was the friendly, slightly playful Man Cri had gotten to know. In his place was a cold, unfeeling person who kept his thoughts to himself even as he glared out across their company. This change worried the young dragonling he travelled with. Several quiet conversations proved that it concerned his soldiers as well. But, because they were more anxious about attacks than the behavior of their captain, Cri alone was able to watch Faramir, and fret.

But even his fretting couldn't keep him entirely occupied, nor could the strange obsession. After a time, he simply had to stare around him at this strange land he was travelling through. As they days passed, he watched the terrain change from a familiar forest into hills, and from hills into rocky plains. By the time they reached the plains, they had been travelling for nearly a week, and finally they could see their destination. Cri glanced from Faramir to the two Halflings who had been forcibly brought with them. Sam seemed to be quietly fuming while the other was just tired. Each step he took seemed to be much more difficult than the last, but none of the Men seemed to pay him any mind.

The young dragonling lad mentally shook himself back to awareness as one of the Men nearby whispered, "Look. Osgiliath burns," under his breath. "Mordor has come." Cri shuddered as Frodo looked back at Faramir.

"The Ring will not save Gondor." Cri tilted his head slightly, wondering how a simple piece of jewelry could elicit such a belief. A simple ring, save or destroy an entire country? Cri was skeptical, to say the least. He sighed as the Halfling continued, "Pleas, let me go." The dragonling glanced over his shoulder at Faramir, who simply stared at the Halfling for a moment before motioning to his men. One of them grabbed Frodo's shoulders and forced the now-desperate Halfling down towards the city as he cried back, "Faramir! You must let me go!" The man ignored him and continued on towards the burning city.

Faramir studiously ignored the struggling Halfling's cries, turning his eyes towards his men and Cri instead. "Hurry," he commanded them, his tone oddly harsh. The rest of the host moved especially quickly after that, not one of them wanting that fierce gaze Faramir currently wore to land on them. It still took them several hours to reach the city of Osgiliath- for the besieged city could be nothing but. Cri stuck close by Faramir, and by proxy, Frodo and Sam. And so he was only a short distance from the Man, searching the skies with an odd feeling of trepidation, when another Man strode up swiftly.

They entered the gates swiftly as the new Man approached them, dodging falling stones and raining arrows as they did so. "Faramir!" The new man had to shout to be heard over the ruckus around them. He lowered his voice, however, when he came close to them, "Orcs have taken the eastern shore. Their numbers are too great. By nightfall, we'll be overrun!" He looked frazzled, Cri decided, but firm. There was something about him that said he was not a Man who would turn and run, despite horrible odds. Cri liked him at once.

A slight commotion behind him had the dragonling boy turning halfway around. Frodo was gripping Sam's sleeve tightly, his gaze wild and feverish. "It's calling to him, Sam," Cri heard him whisper fearfully. "His eye is almost on me!" Sam placed his hand over his friend's calling to him,

"Hold on, Mr. Frodo, it'll be all right!" He kept speaking, but Cri thought Frodo could no longer hear him. The other's blue gaze was fixed to the sky, almost as though he knew something was there that no one else could see. Shuddering, Cri turned back, glancing nervously up at the smoky sky as he did.

Faramir was talking to the new Man when Cri's attention returned to them, "Tell him: Faramir sends a mighty gift." At the others' strange looks, Faramir added, "A weapon that will change our fortunes in this war." Cri wondered who "he" was, and what that "weapon" might be. Something about this whole thing made Cri anxious, along with that strange presence that hung over the entire city. Something was coming, he could feel it.

The Men turned to leave the Halflings behind, and Cri could literally feel a breeze come off Sam as his face turned red with rage. Despite being slightly overweight, the Halfling was quite impressive when angry… "Do you wanna know what happened to Boromir?" he exploded, eyes glittering with anger. "Do you wanna know why your brother died?" Cri thought that may be a bit harsh, but turned back when Faramir did, noting the questioning look in the Man's eyes. Sam growled out, "He tried to take the Ring from Frodo, after swearing an oath to protect him!" Faramir closed his eyes; Cri placed a small hand on his arm. "He tried to kill him! The Ring drove your brother mad!"

"Look out!" a voice screamed from behind them. Above their heads, a tower was struck and crumbled around them. At once, Cri felt that Shadow from before, only much stronger. Now, it was no longer a feeling: it had actual presence. He ducked instinctively as Frodo spoke, sounding very different from normal,

"They're here. They've come!" An earsplitting shriek followed the Halfling's announcement, and Cri screamed as Faramir grabbed his elbow. The Shadow was evil, completely evil, and it was searching for something. Cri could barely move on his own as Faramir dragged him and the Halflings to an overhand as he cried a word Cri did not recognize. "Nazgŭl!" Another shriek followed his shout as a creature- dragon-like and yet like nothing Cri had ever seen- flew overhead.

The Man shoved Cri and the two Halflings into a crevice between a broken door and a wall with a hurried order, "Stay here. Keep out of sight!" He then rushed back out, ignoring Cri's cry from behind him.

"Faramir!" Cri frantically watched the Man, although not quite able to break his order by going after him.

"Take cover!" The cry echoed around the city as the black beast swooped over them again. Cri shivered, the Shadow nearly taking over his mind. He stared blankly as the creature desiccated the city, killing the Men not just with its claws but with the fear it instilled in them. Cri ducked, covering his head with his hands, sobbing. The Evil was too much, and far too close. It pressed on him like a physical weight to the point where he could not move even if he had wanted to.

As the Evil reached its greatest peak, Cri heard Sam yell, "What are you doing!" He tried to look up, to see what was happening, but could not. "Where are you going!" Finally, after that, the Shadow moved from Cri's mind and he was able to look up, just in time to see the great black beast hovering directly in front of Frodo. "Frodo!" Sam cried in a great voice, leaping up to the wall to catch his friend. Cri followed, ignoring the Evil that flowed from the great beast in waves. Frodo could not be allowed near such a thing, he knew without a doubt. It could not come any closer.

Sam reached Frodo seconds before Cri, slamming into him and knocking both of them back down a steep set of stairs and out of harm's way. Cri was not so lucky. Robbed of its original target, the great beast snarled at the dragonling lad. Cri hissed back, trying to dodge out of the way, but the great creature landed between him and escape, lashing out with monstrous talons. Cri screamed in pain as several of them slashed across his chest and shoulders. He ducked as the dragon-like creature moved to hit him again, expecting much more pain.

But it never came.

Instead, he heard the monster roar in pain and then its presence faded from Cri's mind. Blearily, he looked up to see it flying away. The dragonling wondered why it had left him, and was still trying to figure it out when he heard Faramir calling him. "Cri!" Slowly, painfully, Cri turned to face him, unaware of the blood covering his chest. "Oh, no," the Man whispered when he reached the boy. "Cri, look at me." Cri tried, but his eyes no longer wanted to stay open. Now that Faramir was here, he was safe. The boy started to fade into unconsciousness, holding on only because Faramir insisted. "No, don't you dare go to sleep now. Stay with me, lad."

Gentle hands lifted him, carrying him down to where the Halflings were. Cri looked at them, although he could barely see them. Frodo was pale, and Sam was mumbling under his breath. Cri sighed, turning his head back to Faramir's chest- no one else would be carrying him like this. "Cri, you had better not be going to sleep on me." Orange eyes cracked open and glared up at Faramir's face. The pain was fading slightly as darkness roared up, attempting to swallow him. He knew he had to fight it, that if he let the darkness overtake him, he probably would not come back from it.

"Someone get over here and help me!" he dimly heard Faramir yell.

A small voice spoke from closer by, "What do you need?" Cri thought it was Frodo, but his mind was so mixed up, he could not tell for certain.

"Put pressure on the wounds. The deepest one is across his chest, there. Pull the shirt away, like that, and push down. Don not let the pressure up, whatever you do. We have to stop the bleeding." Cri groaned as he felt someone push down across his chest and stomach; a gentle hand stroked his brow. "I know it hurts, Cri, but we cannot let you bleed out. You still have a sister to find, do you not?"

Riana! Cri tried to jerk to a sitting position, but Faramir's grip on his shoulders stopped him. He could not die yet. He still had to find Riana! The boy tried to fight the darkness back with even greater vengeance now; he could not, would not, let it win!

"Will he be all right, Faramir?" Cri heard the fear in the new voice, although he was not sure who it was. Faramir did not answer; Cri struggled to open his eyes, but they weighed more than lead.

The dark waves washed up ever higher even as he struggled to keep away from them. He was not going to let them win! Riana would never forgive him, and neither would Faramir. But he grew ever weaker, and his fight grew less and less fierce. He vaguely heard Faramir's voice in the background, but could no longer hear what he was saying. The blackness seemed so calm, so peaceful. And he was weak now, so weak that even his power could not help him even if he could reach it.

With a sigh, Cri sank into the waves as the blackness overtook him.

**please please please please don't kill me! you won't find out what happens if i die!**


	28. Dawn is Rising

**as usual, i don't own lotr... or the characters, sadly... *ignores banging and muffled yelps from closet* a-HEM anyway, but cri, rianadra, and cearien are mine :D enjoy!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Twenty-Seven: Dawn is Rising<p>

"Fall back!" The cry echoed across the entirety of Helm's Deep. "Retreat! Retreat!" I spun around to face the gate, ignoring the thousands of Uruks still trying to get past me. The wooden gate was in pieces, and a black river of creatures was pouring through it at an alarming rate. I snarled, launching into the air again with a great roar of pain.

Uruks fell back, screeching in fear, as I landed on the causeway after gliding several hundred feet. I snarled, smoke streaming from my nostrils and between long, serrated teeth. The black creatures scrabbled to get away from me; I laughed. Then I leaped into the fray, hoping to at least slow the amount of Uruks getting through the gate. Flames exploded from my mouth, turning living Uruks into piles of ash after only a few seconds. I laughed louder, flame spewing out with my laughter. My claws were coated in Orc blood and guts, and I could taste them between my teeth. I was going to need a pick the size of my entire body to get it out after this whole thing was done. I shuddered then snapped at a couple of creatures that tried to sneak by me.

They screeched and I roared. No more Uruks were going to get past me; I would not allow them to hurt my friends. I slashed, bit, breathed flame, and used by slightly fluffy and blood-coated tail as a mace against the horde of Uruks in front of me. Many of them fell before me, and I felt that I could hold them indefinitely.

That was until yet another sharp pain shot through my body. Someone, no doubt an unlucky Human who had stayed on the wall just a few moments too long, had thrown something at me; judging by where the pain was coming from, it had landed in my shoulder, far too close to my wing joint for comfort. I shifted my wing a little as I whirled about to face yet more Uruks; it screamed at me, something along the lines of, "You stupid, stupid creature, that _hurt_!" I growled low in my throat. Flying was going to be a great deal more complicated now.

As was fighting, for that matter. Any movement I made sent shocks of pain through my shoulder, my right foreleg, and the multitude of nerves in my wing itself. No, this fight was done with. I growled, snorting flame at the remaining Uruk-Hai as I forced myself to the air again. Their arrows clattered off my armored belly, but a few lucky shots found the unprotected skin under my legs. I growled again, glaring down at them with stormy, rage-filled eyes as I forced myself to ignore the pain now roaring down my entire body from several injuries, namely the one in my hind leg and my shoulder. I screeched, both in pain and denial, and veered back towards the mountains that I had come from.

As I did so, the first rays of light shone over the mountains. I huffed in relief: even the Uruk-Hai were not overly fond of sunlight, even if they could technically move about freely in it. Ignoring everything now but the new warmth from the sun and the pain in my body, I flew unsteadily back to the mountains. The only problem was I could no longer see said mountains properly; everything was blurry in my mind. In the distance, or what sounded like a great distance but in reality was less than two hundred feet from me, I heard the call of a great horn. Its deep ring flowed out and across the Vale, greatly confounding the Uruks, I was certain. They did not like surprises; in fact, one could say the Uruk-Hai liked surprises even less than Men, and that was saying quite a bit in my opinion.

Deciding that I was nearing the point of babbling, even in my own head, I returned my attention to reaching the mountains, but did not quite make it. The power that was holding me in this shape was rapidly fading as I started drifting in and out of consciousness. I had not realized exactly how bad my wounds were until now; but apparently I had bled far more than I had originally thought. I felt power rush briefly through me before a sudden roaring filled my ears. It took me a few seconds to realize that the noise was not, in fact, several thousand Uruk-Hai, but the sound of rushing wind as I tumbled down through air I had been flying through only seconds before. I screamed, trying to catch my weight with my wings, but one of them refused to carry my weight properly, not even to slow my fall. The pain then was too much.

The ground rushed up to meet me far too quickly for my liking, and I closed my eyes, not wanting to see it when I hit. It was bad enough that I had to hear it as I slammed into the stone cobbles of a courtyard with a sickening crunch. Seconds after, pain blossomed from several new places, including one arm and my already injured wing; my body simply could not take any more beating; my head dropped to the ground as blackness overwhelmed me.

**(change of POV here YAY! Not back to Cri though *evil smile*)**

"The fortress is taken." Legolas growled under his breath as he helped the soldiers bar the only door as the King spoke. "It is over." The blonde Elf shook his head irritably at the despair in the Man's voice. Not that he could necessarily blame him; after all, thousands of Orcs calmly meandering through a fortress previously claimed to be unbeatable had to have some not-so-happy effects. Especially when one was a King and was charged with the defense of said fortress. He shook his head again, sighing. Still, there was no need to give up yet!

Apparently, Aragorn shared his opinion, Legolas thought as he grabbed another bench. The dark-haired man shoved the bench into the Elf's capable hands and turned to yell at the King, "You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it! They still defend it; they have _died_ defending it!" Legolas had to smile; that was the Aragorn he knew so well.

A loud band on the door interrupted his thoughts. He pushed the bench harder against the door and rushed back to grab the table, launching anything on it- from the sound of it, plates and a few goblets- to crash on the floor a few feet away. Aragorn ignored the sounds, now speaking to the guards. "Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?" Legolas sighed, thinking of the great dragon that he had spied fighting for them outside.

That foolish dragonling was going to get herself killed, he thought, although he had to smile slightly at the memories. She had been a great sight, indeed, soaring out from the mountains to attack the horde of Uruk-Hai. In fact, he thought the fortress may well have fallen a great deal sooner had it not been for the dragonling's presence. Unfortunately, this train of thought led the Elf to remembering not only her great roars of battle, but also those heart-wrenching cries of pain. She may not have been aware of making them, but he had heard them.

And, by the Valar, he would hunt down whoever had hurt her and slaughter them himself, he thought, unaware that his eyes were nearly glowing with his anger. Some of the nearby soldiers gave him nervous looks, which he haughtily ignored. Even from such a distance as he had been from her, he had seen the great wound on her back leg, and the one that she had taken in front of the gates. Spears to both the leg and shoulder were not easy wounds to continue to fight with, he knew, and yet she had done it. Pride in the dragonling girl glowed in his heart, although he was still upset with her for getting herself injured so badly. Legolas sighed, glancing out the window again, hoping to see even a single ray of sunshine coming through.

Not yet.

He turned back to grab yet another table or bench, only to realize two things: there were none left, and Théoden King still sounded depressingly defeated when he spoke next, "So much death... What can Men do against such reckless hate?" Legolas sighed and was seriously contemplating smacking some sense into the King when Aragorn spoke, so softly most of the Men did not hear him the first time,

"Ride out with me. Ride out and meet them." Legolas turned to stare at the Ranger, not sure whether he was proud or annoyed by this. Theoden seemed to share this opinion- or rather, lack thereof.

"For death and glory?"

"For Rohan." Aragorn truly sound like the King he would someday be, the Elf decided, trying not to smile. "For your people." Gimli's voice broke through then, sending a great ray of hope through the Elf.

"The sun is rising." Legolas glanced back at the window to see- finally- the rays of the rising sun pouring through. He breathed a deep sigh of relief that stopped a second later. He could no longer hear the cries of a dragon from outside. Any relief the sun had given him dissipated in that single instant. What had happened to Rianadra? Where was she, and why was she not still fighting? The Elf barely resisted rushing out there this very instant in a suicidal attempt to find her.

A new tone to the King's voice rudely interrupted his musings, "Yes. _Yes_! The Horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the Deep one last time!" Gimli heartily approved of this, Legolas thought with a smirk, judging by the deep, gravelly, "Yes!" he made before vanishing through a small, previously-hidden door close by. Legolas ignored his disappearance, choosing instead to return his attention to the King who was ordering his men now to prepare for a cavalry assault. Legolas went to fetch Arod, thinking this may well be his only excuse to see if those idiotic, bumbling creatures had indeed slain Rianadra, although he seriously doubted that. She was far too talented a natural fighter- although he _did_ wonder where she had learned to fight so well from time to time- to be killed now.

Arod was quickly saddled with Legolas sitting comfortably enough on his back, his bow held readily in his hands. Gently, the Elf patted his horse's neck as the King spoke, hope now firmly in his voice,

"Now for wrath. Now for ruin. And the red dawn!" Almost as if he could still hear them, Gimli- for it could be no one else- blew the first great not on the Horn. Theoden settled his helm firmly on his head as he cried, "_Forô, Eorlingas_!" Arod needed no further prodding, and he leaped forward towards the battle. Just as the Uruks finally managed to break down the door, as they had all known they would eventually, the group of riders shot forwards, swords flashing in the light of the rising sun.

It was almost amusingly easy to fight now that they were on horseback. The Uruks could not reach them as easily, and their horses were well-versed in battle. Legolas honestly wondered why they had not thought to bring the war-horses out sooner. Swiftly, almost disconcertingly so, their little company fought their way back out to the main gate, and from there onto the causeway. The sun rose slowly, shining more and more light down on them, and for that, Legolas was incredibly grateful. Battling Uruk-Hai in the night was not exactly his definition of a night well spent.

Despite the battle still raging around him, Legolas took a few seconds to glance around, praying to the Valar that he not see the great form of Rianadra's dragon shape lying on the ground. He did not see it, but that only served to make him worry more. Why was she not here? She was not known for running away from battle, even one she was not sure she could win. The Elf forced himself to push his misgivings about this to the back of his mind for now, focusing instead on the Uruk-Hai still before him. Then the brown horse in front of his stopped suddenly; Arod, not being an Elven horse, nearly slammed into it. Only Legolas' quick reflexes saved them both. He glared up, ready to scathingly berate anyone who stopped so suddenly in the midst of a battle.

But it was Aragorn. And he was staring, wide-eyed over at the great mountain across the Vale. Legolas followed his friend's gaze but did not need to look much longer, for Aragorn explained in a whisper what had caught his attention, "Gandalf." Legolas began to smile, and it only grew broader at the sight of the Man who appeared next to the Wizard. Even from this distance, he knew who it was: Éomer, nephew to the king. They stood silently for a moment then the Man threw his sword up in what could only be a signal. It was proven to be just that a moment later, when, with a great thunder, two thousand Rohirrim steeds and riders appeared behind them. They did not give the watchers time to truly appreciate that sight, opting instead to charge recklessly down the steep, pebbled hill before them.

Legolas grinned as the Uruks around them began to panic, many rushing back toward the woods beyond the Vale. Gandalf and the Rohirrim crashed into the Uruk-Hai army from one side, and Théoden led a second charge from the causeway. They had won.

A great cry rose from the Men around him as they realized what the Elf knew for certain, "Victory! We have victory!" Legolas smiled easily, beyond glad to know that they had won, but it did not last long.

Now that the concern about the battle was gone, his pressing concerns about Rianadra came swarming back. As the Men began the process of cleaning up the battle around them, the Elf moved back towards the Keep, hoping to find the girl soon. Legolas tried to think of where she would go if she were injured, but he could only think of the mountain behind the Keep. Sighing, he decided to first look in the courtyard where she had revealed her second form to him. Now that he had a destination in mind, Legolas moved swiftly and with purpose. None of the Men thought to stop him now that the battle was won.

It did not take him long, once he left Arod in the hands of a waiting stable boy, to retrace his earlier steps to the hidden courtyard. But once he was there, he truly wished he had thought to come sooner.

Before him, in a bloody heap, lay Rianadra. One of her wings was laying flat out next to her; the other was wrapped around her as best it could be. Her tail lay across her legs, one of which appeared to be broken as well as bleeding heavily. "Oh, Valar, no…" He rushed to her side, trying to find the most pressing injury. "Valar, no, Rianadra…" He tried to shake her but stopped the instant she whimpered, even in her unconscious state. "Rianadra, wake up," he tried to call her into wakefulness, but it did not work as intended. He sighed, exhaling in a near-growl.

"If you die on me now, dragonling, I will bring you back and kill you myself."


	29. Aftermath

**GAH I'M SORRY! yeesh, my brain went dead for a while there... i'm sorry its been so long since i last updated... :D hopefully i haven't lost any faithful reviewers... and i hope it hasn't been all THAT long... *crosses fingers* anyway, i'm too lazy for a ridiculously long AN so, here's chapter 29... and i apologize in advance for the filler-y ness... DON'T KILL ME  
><strong>

**as usual, i don't own lotr people, but i do own riana cri and cearien :D**

**enjoy! **

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Twenty-Nine: Aftermath<p>

The battle for Helm's Deep was over, and it could not have ended too soon. Aragorn sighed deeply as he surveyed the damage around him. He knew, deep in his heart, that the soldiers would not have been able to hold on for much longer than they had. It was only luck and the will of the Gods that they were standing victorious now. Grey eyes closed for a brief moment while he forced himself not to think of how close to catastrophe they had come.

"Lord Aragorn!" The Man turned back around at the voice, trying to hide the smile that grew on his face at the sight of the lady Éowyn as she came rushing up to him. "Thank the Gods you are safe!" she cried, throwing propriety to the winds and grabbing him in a hug. Shaking his head, amused, Aragorn hugged her back for a few moments. Finally, she pulled back, still smiling, but by now Aragorn was no longer paying her the proper amount of attention. He had only just noticed that two of his company were missing. Legolas he had seen only a short while ago, so unless some sort of abysmally bad luck had struck his Elven friend, he should be fine. Aragorn would not worry about him just yet; however, he had not seen Riana for some time.

"Lady Éowyn?" he asked softly, returning his attention to the woman beside him. She glanced at him, confused for a second. "You did not happen to see a young woman with silver hair in the caves, did you?" He sincerely hoped she had, because the alternative was not something he cared to consider, especially not now. He forced himself to return his attention to Éowyn.

"I am sorry, my lord, but I do not recall seeing anyone of that description in the caves." Aragorn sighed deeply, covering his face with one slightly bloody hand. Of course… That stubborn bratling would disobey a direct order from a king, even if he was not technically her king, in order to fight. "My lord? Is everything all right?" To her credit, Éowyn actually sounded honestly concerned. When Aragorn did not answer, she added, "This young woman you speak of, is she the girl who arrived with you in the city?"

"Indeed. It would seem that she disobeyed your uncle's orders and joined the men in the battle." Éowyn looked offended.

"She was allowed to-" Aragorn interrupted before the young woman could continue and alert anyone else to their conversation.

"She was in no way allowed to fight, and if I had known she was, I would not have allowed it." Inwardly, Aragorn was reaching panic levels. Where was she? He was fairly certain he had not seen her on the walls, and she had not been… A sudden thought struck him; he would have fallen if he had not collided with the wall in his shock.

The dragon. The dragon that had fought on the wall was somehow connected to all of this, but he simply could not figure out how. He distinctly felt like he was missing something, and it was truly starting to annoy him. Dimly, he head Éowyn nervously ask him again if everything was fine. He honestly could not say; something was… off… but he had no idea what. With a great force of will, the Man wrenched his concentration back to Éowyn.

"Excuse me, my lady, but I must go find my companions. If the Lady Riana is missing… It could have… interesting… consequences." After a moment, Éowyn nodded.

"Of course, my lord. I wish you luck," was all she said before hurrying off; she wasn't quite quick enough, however, to hide the flash of hurt in her eyes. Shaking his head inwardly and asking why women were so complicated, Aragorn moved off in search of either the Elf or the Dwarf to see if either of them had any idea where Riana had run off to. Gimli was fairly easy to find; the Dwarf was crossing the top of the wall, axing any Orc that seemed to still be moving. Even from a fair distance away, Aragorn could hear him mumbling under his breath,

"Forty-two… Forty-three!" he cried triumphantly, grinning as Aragorn came up to him.

"Forty-three what, Master Dwarf?" he asked, hiding his amusement carefully. Gimli's grin broadened.

"Forty-three dead Uruk-Hai is what! Forty-three killed by my ax! Now, where is that Elf? I have to tell him the final count!" Aragorn sighed.

"You mean to say you have not seen him?" Gimli shook his head.

"Not since he rode off after the battle some time ago, lad." Aragorn frowned. Why had Legolas off all people ridden off like that? Normally, he would be here, competing with Gimli, arguing over who had had the most kills. Suddenly uneasy, the Man turned to head back the way he came when he heard a new voice behind him.

"You might check the back courtyard, the one closest to the mountain." Aragorn spun back around, refusing to grasp his hand to his chest. Éomer stood there, holding a saddle and trying to hide a grin. Aragorn glared at him but otherwise refused to acknowledge his shock.

"What?" he all but growled.

"Behind the Keep, there is a small courtyard of a sort. I saw the Elf you are searching for heading that direction after the battle," the Horseman informed him, a slight smirk on his face. Aragorn sighed, rubbing his hand across his face again and asking the gods for patience.

"Can you direct me to this 'courtyard'?" he asked simply.

"But of course! There is a small alley over that way," he gestured between the outer wall and the side of the building off to their right. "Go through it, and you will end up there." The Horseman grinned, a teasing light in his eyes. "But you may not expect what you see!" Still grinning, Éomer wandered off again to rejoin the rest of his Riders. Aragorn fought the urge to roll his eyes, breathing a deep, calming breath before sharing a confused glance with Gimli.

"And here I thought the Elf was the strangest thing I was ever going to see!" the Dwarf exclaimed, wiping the last drop of Uruk-Hai blood off his ax-blade. Aragorn nodded in agreement.

"He is rather odd, isn't he?" Gimli didn't even grace that with a response, choosing instead to head over to the alley Éomer had gestured to.

"Well, we may as well see if he was telling the truth."

**(Back to our favorite Elf and Dragonling ) **

Legolas carefully pulled Rianadra up from where she lay sprawled on the ground. She groaned again, softer this time, but the Elf was not going to let her stay on the ground. Briefly he contemplated trying to move her to a healer; seconds later he discarded that idea as stupid and incredibly foolish. She would not thank him for revealing her secret to others without her saying he could. He sighed, gently brushing a few silvery strands away from her face.

Her eyelids trembled as another small moan escaped her. Legolas leaned closer, wondering if she was actually going to wake or if it was just his imagination. After a few tense seconds, she opened her eyes just a little, just enough for him to know she was, in fact, as close to all right as possible. His breath left him in a relieved whoosh, but he flatly refused to show her how truly frightened she had made him.

"Legolas?" Rianadra's weak whisper broke into his thoughts rather roughly. Gently, he brushed a finger across her face.

"Aye, it is me," he told her. "And as soon as you get well, I am going to kill you for frightening me like that!" Well… so much for not showing her that, he grumbled to himself; her smile once she understood what he meant brought that thought to a screeching halt.

"You… were worried?" He barely escaped the urge to roll his eyes at her. Instead, he lightly flicked her forehead, trying to not laugh as she wrinkled her nose at him.

"Very much so, Rianadra. And you had better not do that to me again!" He tried to glare at her but was fairly certain it wasn't having the effect it should. She just moved to shrug, but as soon as she moved, her face splintered in pain as a tiny whimper escaped her. Her free hand shot to her shoulder. "What? What is it?" Legolas tried to push her hand aside, but she was stubborn.

"Hurts…" she whispered softly, curling in on herself with another quiet sound of pain as she moved her injured leg. One purple-grey wing curled more tightly around her while the other one just twitched slightly. She groaned again when it did, and he assumed she was injured there.

"Let me see it, stubborn girl." After a moment, she allowed him to tug her hand away; the instant he saw what was causing her pain, he wished he hadn't. There was a huge gash in her shoulder, right next to the big muscle in her wing and shoulder blade. "Valar, what have you done to yourself?"

"Not my fault," she grumbled, glaring at him as best she could. "Idiot Men…" She shifted again, causing a fresh rivulet of blood to ooze out of the wound on her shoulder. Not only that, he realized a minute later as a feeling of wetness spread on his lower leg where hers brushed his. He glanced down, not wanting to see what was causing it. But he had to, and when he did he uttered a favorite Dwarven curse of his at the sight. Her leg had a… a _hole_ in it, that was the only way to explain it. Something large and obviously sharp had torn into her leg, deeply, and it was still bleeding heavily. Legolas yanked his cloak off and was about to rip it into shreds when a voice spoke from behind him.

"What in Middle Earth is going on here?" The Elf cursed again as Rianadra tried to get up and see who had spoken.

"Do not move, dra- girl," he swiftly corrected his mistake, although he figured that her wings were plainly visible to whoever was behind them. Once he was certain she would actually obey him, Legolas turned just far enough to see that their visitors were none other than Aragorn and Gimli, both of whom were staring at him and Rianadra with their jaws on the ground. It seemed Gimli was the one who had spoken. "Are you going to stand there all day?" he grumbled at the Dwarf and the Man. "We could use some help here." Aragorn reacted first, none-too-gently pushing Gimli back the way they had come. The Dwarf acquiesced with no grace whatsoever, disappearing with a series of muttered curses involving stubborn Elves and brutish Men. Legolas would have laughed were he not so worried about Rianadra, who had begun to tremble violently.

"What is wrong?" Aragorn asked as soon as Gimli was out of earshot, concern in his voice. Legolas tightened his grip on Rianadra, fearing she would attempt to run away as Aragorn crouched next to them. She did jerk slightly, but blood loss and pain kept her right where she was.

"Her shoulder and leg are the worst, and I think that leg is broken."

"Is not," she growled softly, trying to push herself up.

"Can you move it, Riana?" Aragorn interrupted gently. She glared at him.

"… kind of question is that?" she grumbled, but as soon as she moved her injured leg, her face went white and she bit her lip hard enough to make it bleed.

"The kind that I knew the answer to. That leg of yours is broken, at worst. At best, it is very badly sprained." She glared up at the Man.

"Figured that." Legolas sighed, and she turned that glower on him. "And what is he doing here?"

"Trying to keep you from hurting yourself any more, girl. Although I do ask that you explain the… Shall I be blunt?" Rianadra nodded, a definable fear in her eyes. "What are you, Riana? Not human, or Elvish."

"No, I am not human, nor Elvish. Similarly, I am neither Mortal nor Immortal, but something in between." Legolas glanced at Aragorn, unsurprised to see understanding come over his face suddenly.

"Dragonling…"

"Aye, that is what I am." Legolas winced slightly at the defeated tone to her voice and gripped her hand as tightly as he could without hurting her. Aragorn ignored that and her comment and turned to stare at the Elf.

"You have known for some time, have you not?" Legolas nodded as Rianadra's eyes slid shut again; he did not know whether she had lost consciousness again or was simply hoping to not have to see Aragorn's face.

"She told me in Lorien. I did not tell you-"

"It is probably best that you did not tell us, _mellon nīn_," Aragorn told him simply. "I doubt she would have appreciated that overly much." Legolas shook his head slightly as Aragorn worked to bind the worse of her injuries. "Riana?" A noncommittal grunt was his only response. "Can you hide your wings and tail again? I can only assume that is what you do when we cannot see them." She nodded slightly as concentration flashed across her face. A moment later, the aforementioned appendages faded from view. The Man was about to add something when a new voice spoke from behind them,

"High time I found you three." The Elf and the Man spun around to face Gandalf; the Wizard was smiling slightly at them. "We must away to Isengard."

"Riana should not travel, Gandalf."

"I can ride a horse, Aragorn. I will accompany you."

"Your leg is sprained at least, nearly not there at all, and something about the size of a spear just barely missed the muscle in your shoulder. How does that make you fit to ride, lady Riana?" She growled at his harsh tone.

"It does not matter. I am going with you." Before Aragorn could come up with a suitable response, she added, "Tie me to my horse if you must or make me ride with someone else, but I am going with you." The two glared at each other for a minute before Aragorn finally gave up. Legolas would have laughed at the irritated expression on the Man's face were he not so fond of the place his head was currently occupying.

"Very well then. Should she ride with you, Legolas?" The Elf thought about that for a moment before nodding.

"Gimli can ride with you."

"It is settled then! Now get me up so we can go!" Legolas shook his head, not comprehending how Rianadra was suddenly able to sound so strong when a little while before she could barely speak at all. He was about to ask her when a fierce glare from the young dragonling stopped him. Instead of commenting, he simply offered her his arm and hauled the both of them to their feet. Rianadra turned her gaze to Gandalf with a grin frightening enough to make even an Uruk run for cover. "Lead the way, Wizard!"

**seeing as how i haven't gotten any reviews in a while, i'm actually going to beg for them... REVIEW, PLEASE!**


	30. Homesick

**i am so sorry this is so late... school ate my life and my energy, and i kinda... yeah, i had no free time... but at least it's here right? anyway, enjoy!  
>riana and cri and cearien are mine, but not the LOTR cast... sadly - hugs Legolas plushie - <strong>

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Thirty: Homesick<p>

I glared fiercely at the back of Aragorn's head as we left Helm's Deep several hours after Gandalf told us we must leave. I would have much rather left earlier than now, namely immediately, but a certain, annoying Man had decided that my wounds absolutely needed to be looked after. Seconds after I had told Legolas to help me, Aragorn had ordered him to bring me to the healing wing so he could "fix" my leg. I growled under my breath as I glowered over Legolas' shoulder.

"Glaring at me is not going to make it any better, Riana," Aragorn called back, not even turning to see if I _was _glaring at him. Which I was. But how did he know that?

"I am not glaring at you," I retorted, turning to glare at our surroundings instead. "I am admiring the lovely countryside!" He shook his head and fell back to ride closer to me and Legolas. I tried hard not to turn and glare at him yet again.

"If that look were any hotter, the 'lovely countryside' would be on fire, Riana." I grumbled under my breath, ignoring the slightly disappointed look on the Man's face. "Does your leg hurt?" I snarled softly. Healers…. Always assuming something hurts… My leg was completely fine!

"It is fine, Aragorn." He raised an eyebrow at me; I lifted my own in response, pretending I could not see how skeptical he looked.

"You have a hole in your leg, girl. It has to hurt, even if only a little. And I really should change the bandages again soon." I couldn't hold myself back anymore and turned to give him the darkest glare I could possibly come up with.

"I am not making the entire group stop again so you can look at my leg, which, by the way, is fine. It does not hurt, and you just changed the bandages two hours ago." My voice dropped a couple of registers until I was nearly growling the words out, not speaking them. It wasn't even a total lie either; sure, I had a hole in my leg, but I had also certainly had far worse injuries. The worst I could think of was that time I had nearly torn my wing off after hitting a tree. This was nothing compared to that. And the cracked bone was nothing; it was most likely just sprained and Aragorn was overreacting, something healers were wont to do. He sighed deeply, returning my glower.

"That leg of yours is not fine, Riana. I will not make you stop now, but the next time we do, I am going to look at it, even if I have to make someone hold you down." My lip curled up in a soundless snarl as I harshly informed him,

"I'd like to see you try." He shrugged and nudged Brego ahead of us. I glared at his straight back as he rode off, trying to ignore Gimli's quiet chuckling. Legolas laid a hand on my shoulder gently.

"He is only trying to help, Rianadra," the Elf told me softly. I turned back to meet his blue eyes with a quiet sigh.

"I know he is, Legolas, but that does not make it any less frustrating." Legolas patted my shoulder; I caught a slight smile in his eyes. "Stop laughing."

"But I am not."

"You are!" He just smirked at me. "Don't make me slap that smirk off you."

"You would not." I met his grin with an even glare.

"I would. Do not doubt that." I shifted slightly, turning my head away to hide a wince when the wound in my leg brushed against something hard and slightly pointy. Legolas tugged me back to rest against his chest, and I sighed. "You are enjoying this far too much, Elf." Blatantly ignoring me, he just wrapped his free arm around my waist and kept a firm grip on Arod's reigns with the other. I sighed, but decided that arguing was only going to make things worse.

Besides, this was incredibly comfortable.

**(Boop)**

We rode fairly hard that day; Gandalf seemed incredibly eager to reach this place we were going: Isengard. I had no clue what it was, but I had heard the others mention it before. I half wanted to ask about it, but the other half was certain that I did not particularly want to know. The latter won out during the long, long ride that day.

I sat quietly with Legolas, slept a good bit, and itched with a thousand questions that I was fairly sure I either did not want to know the answer to or was not going to get an answer if I wanted one. Aragorn did insist on stopping every few hours so he could make sure my leg wound was not getting any worse, despite my insisting that it was not and could not. Because of that, I was sure, it took us a great deal longer to reach the place Gandalf called the Crossroads than I would have liked. And I was fairly certain that the others agreed with me.

The sun was setting by the time we reached the Crossroads; in the red light of the dying sun, the lot of us stopped on a rocky outcropping and looked out across yet another new place that I did not know. In the distance stood a great black wall of stone that gushed smoke and such a feeling of doom and evil that it was nearly a physical weight. I shuddered and glanced back up at Legolas, asking silently what that place was. The Elf rested his chin on my shoulder and whispered,

"Mordor, the Black Kingdom. Where the Ring Frodo was given was forged, and where he must go to destroy it." I shivered hard enough to shake both of us and cause Arod to skip backwards few steps.

"We sent him _there_?" I hissed back at him, turning my head so the others could not see my lips move. "By himself?"

"Sam went with him."

"Still… What chance does he have?" I stared back out at the Black Land ahead of us, trying to shove the feelings of dread and evil from my chest. I was not very successful, and was even less so when Legolas spoke next.

"Very little. About as much a chance as we have to defeat the armies of Mordor when they come." My eyes met his, and I was sure I looked like a fish out of water in my shock. He sighed, looking out again. I joined him a moment later as he added, "But we will no doubt meet them in battle anyway, Rianadra. We will not back down." I nodded and felt his hand wrap around mine in a firm and comforting grip as Gandalf spoke from a few horse-lengths away as though he knew what we had been talking about,

"Sauron's wrath will be terrible, his retribution swift." He was silent for a moment, allowing us all a moment to think, something none of us would thank him for. Finally, he spoke again, his voice firm and serious, "The Battle for Helm's Deep is over. The battle for Middle Earth is about to begin." He shared a long look with all of us. "All our hopes now lie with two little Hobbits, somewhere in the wilderness." That thought worried me, but I had to keep faith in Frodo. He would finish what he set out to do; that much I was certain of.

My thoughts turned away from my friends and to my little brother as our company took a different road away from the Crossroads than we had taken to get here. I was not certain of Cri, now that I had the chance to think about him. I had no assurance that he yet lived, but I also had none to prove he was dead. But I knew my brother; well enough to say, still with a reasonable amount of uncertainty, that he would survive as long as he could. And I had to keep faith that he lived still, and was working to return to me as hard as I was to find him. Or, if I could not find him, then find out what happened to him.

I leaned my head back against Legolas' shoulder with a small sigh and closed my eyes, trying to picture my little brother. It was harder than I had ever thought it would be. Slowly, I brought an image of him as a child to mind, his dark hair flopping into his eyes the way he liked it to, orange eyes glowing with the happiness that only a child could know. Then I made him grow older in my mind until I saw him, finally, as he had been the last time I had seen him. His hair was still dark, although it had lightened a little over the years; it still hung low over his ears and fell into his eyes, hiding them. Cri's eyes were no longer that happy bright of a child, but still had something young to them, something I no longer thought I had. He grinned at me in the image and I felt a small smile tug at my mouth even as I felt a sudden urge to cry.

I missed him, I realized once again. I missed his happy, almost obnoxious contentment with life that always confused me. I missed how he always slacked off on chores, choosing instead to go fishing or hunting for all sorts of imaginary creatures. I just missed him, and was amazed that I had taken all of that for granted before he was taken from me. I sighed deeply and barely felt Legolas touch my shoulder again.

"Rianadra? Are you well?" My breath left me in a whoosh and I shook my head slightly. His grip tightened briefly before he ran his fingers through the tangles in my hair in a gentle, oddly tender gesture. "Your brother?" I nodded once, refusing to look back and see the pity in his eyes. "You will find him again, you know."

"Eh?" I glanced back again, my neck twisted at an odd angle in order to see his face as he stared straight ahead. "What are you, a fortune-teller now?" That got a slight chuckle out of him.

"No, I am not. But I am getting to know you, and I do not think you will give up until you know what happened or you are reunited." He smiled down at me as he added, "If he is anything like you, I think the latter is far more likely." He brushed my hair once more before nudging Arod to catch up to the others. When we did find them, we saw that they had decided to call it a night and set up camp. Legolas stopped Arod near the other horses and dismounted before turning to help me down. He and I shared a soft smile before he settled me down close by the fire, where I knew I would be spending most of the night.

Most likely all of the night if a certain Elf and a certain Man had anything to say about it.

**(yay another time skip… coz I know y'all just LOVE these…. *sigh* ah well they're necessary for my sanity *grins*)**

As it turned out, I was right. I spent all of that night, and the next, and even the one after _that_ feeling supremely useless as both Aragorn and Legolas kept me still and out of everyone else's way. Gimli would often sit with me and talk about anything and everything to keep my mind off of the fact that, despite my claims that my leg was fine, I could not walk without assistance. I appreciated his company, although I still chafed at the feelings of uselessness that took over me over the two weeks it took us to reach Isengard.

But finally, we returned to the great Fangorn Forest. Gandalf led the way, his white robe and the white horse he was riding seeming to glow in the dim light of the forest. I leaned back against Legolas again, looking up into the trees and the brief glimpses of sky that I could capture every once in a while. Gimli muttered under his breath behind us; I was fairly sure it was some sort of insult to trees or forests in general. A soft grunt of indignation a few seconds later proved me right as he growled an annoyed, "Trees…" Legolas and I exchanged an amused smile.

The forest around us was different from the first time we had travelled through here. I mentioned it to the Elf behind me; I felt him shrug. "Isengard must have been overthrown. The trees are at peace now. Before, they were not." I nodded; that made sense.

There was silence for a few minutes before a thought came to me, "Do the trees actually talk to you?" He stiffened for a second then laughed softly.

"Yes, in a sense. They do not speak like you or me, but speak they do."

"Hm." I looked up at the trees, hearing the gentle whisper of their leaves as they rustled in the wind. "I think I hear it." Legolas gently squeezed my shoulder. I glanced back to see him smiling gently at me.

"Perhaps you do. You have spent enough time among forests to learn to hear it." He was quiet for a minute. "Then again, you may be hearing the voices ahead of us." I was about to snap at him for making fun of me, but then I caught a snippet of what he was talking about.

"- after a hard day's work." That voice… it sounded like Pippin! My heart leaped into my throat, and I leaned forward over Arod's neck as though that would help me see them sooner. Legolas kept a grip on my arm but said nothing.

"Only, you've never done a hard day's work." That was Merry; I was sure of it! I looked back at Legolas, my eyes most likely nearly glowing with my happiness.

"They're alive!"


	31. Reunited

**HA told you i'd get another chappy out soon! *grins* anyway, as usual i don't own lotr cast, but riana, cri, and cearien are mine :D enjoy, and reviews are loved and appreciated!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Thirty-One: Reunited<p>

"Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" I laughed softly to myself at Merry's drunken announcement. While we were approaching the gates, he had stood, wobbling, and cried out, both in joy and in his little speech. Behind me, I heard the soft sounds of Legolas chuckling softly.

"It is good to see them well," I whispered back to him; he squeezed my hand slightly, remembering, no doubt, how I had blamed myself for losing them in the first place.

"It is indeed, Rianadra. It is indeed." Still grinning, I returned my attention to our Hobbit friends, who were now addressing Gimli, riding with Aragorn a little ahead of us.

"We are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts!" I laughed as Merry leaned forwards, chewing exaggeratedly with pipe smoke spewing out of his mouth. Gimli scoffed as Pippin added, "The salted pork is _particularly_ good!" I could practically see the Dwarf glaring at them.

"Salted pork?" he asked; one could almost see the lust for pork in his eyes, even when one was sitting behind him! I laughed out loud at that as Gandalf muttered something possibly degrading about Hobbits under his breath. Gimli turned to glare at me; I just grinned at him. He huffed and turned back as Merry spoke again, sounding a little less drunk this time,

"We're under orders from Treebeard, who's taken over management of Isengard!" Treebeard? What was a treebeard? I wondered. Hopefully someone would tell me, or I would find out soon enough. Gandalf nudged Shadowfax forward, followed by Aragorn who pulled Pippin down in front of him. Merry clambered on Éomer's horse behind the Horsemaster. Soon as they were settled, we set of again, following Gandalf.

It didn't take us long to reach what I assumed to be our destination; the horses waded through knee-deep water for a few minutes before the Wizard stopped before a great tree that really did not look like it should be there. I was beginning to wonder if it was there by nature or not when it moved, turning to face us, yellow eyes focused on Gandalf. I felt my jaw drop as it spoke.

"Young Master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come." It spoke slowly, certain words and syllables oddly exaggerated. But it was understandable Common, oddly enough. What was a _tree_ of all things doing speaking, let alone understandable Common? Legolas must have sensed my confusion; he whispered to me as the tree and Wizard kept talking,

"That is Treebeard, one of the Ents." Oh. That was an Ent. I had heard the stories, heard that they were special trees, not prone to having a sense of humor. That was about all I had known of them prior to this. "Do you know what the Ents are?" I shook my head.

"All I know is what the vague legends I heard from my parents told me. And I have forgotten most of the details by now." He nodded and continued, still whispering,

"Well, they are known as the Tree-herders or Shepherds of the Forest. They care for all the trees, wake them from slumber, and protect them. There are few of them left now, unfortunately. Not many know why their numbers are decreasing." I glanced back at him.

"Do you know why?" I asked, keeping my voice low as well. He shook his head slightly.

"There are no Ents in Mirkwood," he told me before returning his attention to the conversation in front of us. I followed his example, almost as confused as before.

Gimli was grumbling, not to anyone's surprise; what did surprise me were his words, "Then let's just have his head and be done with it!" Now even more confused than ever, I looked to Gandalf, hoping he would explain. But he did not see my glance, and Legolas did not answer either.

"No, we need him alive," Gandalf told Gimli, his voice solemn. "We need him to talk." I looked around wildly, trying to figure out who it was that we needed answers from when a voice called from high above our heads.

"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Théoden king, and made peace afterwards!" I glanced up, startled, to see a man dressed in a similar way as Gandalf, in a long white robe with white hair. He also carried a staff, but I could sense little Power in it. He was far weaker than Gandalf. _This_ was the man we had so feared before, the one who had almost brought a mountain on our heads on the mountain of Caradhras? Why had we been so afraid; he was weak! The weak Wizard spoke again, his voice still strong, "Can we not take council together, as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?" I sensed treachery in his words and lifted my lip in a soundless snarl.

Obviously I wasn't the only one who sensed it. Legolas tensed behind me, and I heard Gimli growl off to my right somewhere. I refused to take my eyes off the Wizard.

Théoden answered, his voice soft but not weak, "We shall have peace." He was silent for a moment, and I felt the Wizard's triumph; but then Théoden spoke again, "We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children who lie dead there! We shall have peace, when the lives of the soldiers, whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows, we shall have peace!" Gradually as he spoke his voice grew louder, until he was shouting the last words. I was impressed. However, the Wizard was not.

"Gibbets and crows?" he sneered. "Dotard!" I growled under my breath, not even bothering to hide the fact that I was doing it. I did not like this Wizard. There was an air of… wrongness around him that worried me. Legolas shifted slightly as the Wizard added, still in a sneering tone of voice, "What do you want, Gandalf Greyhem? The keys to Orthanc, or the keys to Barad-dŭr itself? Along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the five wizards?" I could barely keep from throwing some of my power at him, if only to get him to stop talking. Only a gentle, "No," from behind me kept my power still as Gandalf responded.

"Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are at risk, but you can save them, Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's council." I wondered if it was a smart idea to let the evil one know he had something to bargain with, but it seemed no one else shared my concerns. Above us, Saruman's- at least, I assumed that was his name- voice held amusement now.

"So you have come for information?" He cackled softly as he snapped, "I have some for you!" as he whipped a hand under his robes and withdrew a stone about the size of my head. I fought the urge to stare at it and looked away, only remembering its size and how it seemed to glow from within. I closed my eyes, listening, "Something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth. Something you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it. Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon!" He laughed as Gandalf nudged Shadowfax forward again, inching ever closer to the base of the tower. "You're all going to die!" Saruman crowed, smiling, from what I could see. "But you know this already, don't you, Gandalf."

It wasn't a question.

But Saruman still was not done. "You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor! This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned King!" What? I glanced at Aragorn, wondering if this was what he had hidden from us this whole time and which of the others knew. Based on their lack of shock, I assumed all of them had known. Grumbling, I sat back and listened again to Saruman's rant.

"Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him, those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort did you give to the Halfling before you sent him to his doom?" When Gandalf refused to answer, he continued, "The path that you have set him on can only lead to death!" I had heard enough, and apparently I was not alone.

"I've heard enough! Shoot him, Legolas! Stick an arrow in his gob!" Gimli cried, greatly annoyed. I felt Legolas reach for an arrow, but Gandalf stopped him with a single word.

"No." He addressed Saruman, "Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared." The other scoffed.

"Save your mercy and your pity. I have no use for them!" With a great shout, he launched a fireball from his staff at Gandalf. I shouted as it came, one hand extended to stop it; but Gandalf beat me to it. The fireball hit him, but I knew it no longer had any power. Gandalf had stopped it. Flames with no heat whirled around him and dissipated. Above us, at the top of the tower, Saruman gasped as Gandalf glared at him.

"Saruman, your staff is broken!" As he spoke, an explosion sounded from above as Saruman's staff shattered. My jaw dropped open again.

As Saruman stood there in shock, staring at his now-empty hands, a figure in black appeared behind him, someone I recognized. Gríma Wormtongue. Théoden spoke from behind me, strongly, "Gríma, you need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan! Come down!" I watched the thin, pale man, wondering what he had been like before Saruman got his grubby hands on him. It was difficult to imagine. But it got easier when the Man bowed to his King.

But apparently I was alone in that thought.

"A man of Rohan?" Saruman laughed. "What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and rats roll on the ground with the dogs? Victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Théoden, Horsemaster! You are a lesser son of greater sires!" I felt like I was trying to swallow an entire colony of flies, my jaw was hanging so wide. That was an insult far greater than anything he had thrown at us yet, including the unspoken ones aimed at Gandalf. He was asking for an arrow, in my humble opinion.

"Gríma, come down," the king called, ignoring the insult. I was impressed. "Be free of him."

"Free?" Saruman spat as the pale one began to move. "He will never be free!"

"NO!" My eyebrows shot up as Grima spoke up; but Saruman gave him no chance to speak further. He shoved him down harshly with a growled,

"Get down, cur!" Gríma cried out as he hit the ground. I would not blame him in the slightest for trying to kill Saruman after that. Apparently, Gandalf, at least, shared my concerns. His voice held new urgency when he spoke next.

"Saruman, you were deep within the enemy's council. Tell us what you know!" Saruman grinned again.

"You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided." I was about to tell Gandalf not to do it when a dark shape behind Saruman caught my eye. Gríma had not been kept down.

He lunged towards Saruman, something silvery glinting in his hand. I cried out a warning just a second too late; Wormtongue stabbed the broken Wizard in the back at least twice, crying, "I will not be held prisoner here!" Saruman's face was both shocked and furious as he began to fall. An arrow protruded from behind my head then vanished as Legolas shot Gríma, who fell just seconds before Saruman. Slowly, almost gracefully, Saruman tipped off the edge of the tower and plummeted towards the ground. His body was impaled on the spike of the great wheel that sat at the base of the tower; the weight it just enough that it began to turn, burying Saruman's corpse under the waters.

All was silent for a time as we all wondered exactly what had just happened and what was to be done about it.

Finally, Gandalf's serious voice broke the solemn silence, "Send word to all our allies and any corner of Middle-Earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us, and we need to know where he will strike!" Still no one moved, but the sound of sloshing water announced the Ent's return.

"The filth of Saruman," he turned the name into a vile epithet, "is washing away," he said in his slow, deliberate way. "Trees will come back to live here. Young trees, wild trees." Something was wrong… I tuned out from the conversation, trying to pinpoint where the wrongness came from. Aragorn's call of Pippin's name pulled it forward. The stone! The one Saruman had revealed earlier! It had disappeared, mostly likely rolled off and landed in the water not far from where our small company sat on horseback. Sloshing water told me where Pippin was.

I turned just in time to see him lift the grey stone, now nothing more than a lump of rock with its power not in use, from the water. Despite its quiet state, I knew it could not be trusted. "Peregrin Took!" Gandalf exclaimed, taking the words right out of my mouth as Treebeard exclaimed, "Bless my bark!"

"I'll take that, my lad," Gandalf kindly ordered the Hobbit. "Quickly now!" Slowly, hesitantly, Pippin handed it up to the Wizard who buried it under his robes like Saruman had carried it. With a last long look at Pippin, Gandalf turned away and addressed the rest of our group.

"We must return to Edoras, with all speed possible." I agreed, but was far more concerned with Pippin, who was staring after Gandalf with a rapt, almost loving look on his face.

Whatever that stone was, it was dangerous despite its compelling nature, and it most certainly was worth watching.


	32. Drinking Game

**as usual i do not own lotr cast, but riana, cri, and cearien are mein :D**

**reviews are loved, so leave one at the end and i will love you forever!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Thirty-Two: Drinking Game<p>

The ride back to Edoras took almost as long as the one to Isengard had. Aragorn still insisted on stopping every three to four hours to make sure my leg was getting no worse. After about the fifth or sixth time this happened, Legolas finally stepped in on my behalf.

"Aragorn, do you not trust me to keep her from hurting herself again?" he asked, a slightly offended look on his face. Aragorn sighed as he finished tying the bandage around my leg once again.

"I trust you. It is this one," he gestured to me; I barely restrained the urge to smack him as he continued, "that I worry about." I glared at him.

"I am not that clumsy!" I truly wasn't. It was not my fault that stupid Uruk had good aim; it is also much harder than people think to turn quickly in mid-flight. Birds make it look so easy! I thought, turning my glower to the sky just in time to see a bluebird flit into the sky above my head. Aragorn sighed deeply as he rose to his feet in front of me, ignoring my previous protest.

"Riana." I glanced back down, surprised to see his serious face barely inches in front of mine. I yelped and would have fallen over backwards if it were not for Legolas' quick Elven reflexes; he caught and steadied me as Aragorn continued to stare solemnly at me.

"What?"

"You have a lot to explain when we return to Edoras, my lady," he informed me. I grumbled under my breath, having hoped he would either live with not knowing or forgotten about what he had seen. It was my bad luck that he had not.

"Very well. But not until we return. And do I have to tell the Dwarf as well?" Gimli's head shot around at that but he didn't ask. Aragorn studied me closely then nodded slightly.

"It would be wise, Riana." I sighed deeply, fighting the urge to growl. This was not at all the way I wanted my secret to be discovered. I had hoped to keep it hidden for a much longer time than this. Legolas gently brushed his fingers over the back of my hand; I look up at him, forcing a grin.

"It will be well, Rianadra."

"Again, I have to ask, are you a fortune-teller or something?" He laughed out loud at that, unable to hold it back any longer. I stared at him, remembering his challenge on the slopes of Caradhras: ""I bet I could even make _you_ cackle like that if I tried hard enough." It seemed I had finally accomplished it. In fact, he was still laughing when Théoden and Éomer arrived to tell the rest of us we needed to move on again if we intended to reach Edoras with any kind of punctuality.

And so, nearly five days later, we arrived back in Edoras, approaching the outer gates just as dusk began to fall. All around us, the citizens of Edoras came out into the street, silently watching our small company move past. Apparently, they had returned from Helm's Deep long before we had, but still they wished to see their victorious King return alive and well. Or at least, that is what I assumed they wanted as they stared after us without a sound. It was uncanny and oddly unnerving.

Luckily, those in the Golden Hall were not in such a state. In the hall, soldiers no longer in armor ran about wildly while women of the household shouted directions and orders; servants also scuttled to and fro at the beck and call of the women. I stared blankly.

"Something has been planned for tonight, I assume," Legolas whispered in my ear. I bit back a yelp, turning to glare at him.

"Don't _do_ that, Elf, you scared me!" I growled, before falling to grip my leg. The sudden movement I had made causing my wound to inform me it was, in fact, not quite healed yet.

"Be careful, Rianadra. I would not like to see what Aragorn will do if you tear those stitches." His almost-condescending tone had my glower turning to ice.

"If I tear these stitches, Legolas, I will lay all the blame on you for surprising me!" Soft, musical laughter interrupted our argument. The Elf and I both turned, surprised to see Éowyn standing by the doors, smiling slightly.

"If you do not mind, Lady Riana, come with me? We must find you something appropriate to wear to the banquet tonight!" Banquet? I looked back at Legolas for help, but he just smiled and waved at me. Traitor…

"I will get you back for this, Elf!" I snapped as Éowyn gently gripped my arm and helped me out of the main hall. "Lady Éowyn, I truly do not see the purpose of this. I am dressed appropriately!" She stared at me sympathetically.

"I understand perfectly, my lady. I prefer breeches myself. However, for such an important occasion, we must behave like proper women." She sighed; I could hardly believe this. Proper women? What was that nonsense?

"I am sorry, Lady Éowyn… I am not sure I even know how to behave that way!" I gasped, suddenly slightly afraid. I had no practice behaving in a way that most societies would consider "proper". Although, apparently, wearing breeches, shirt, and tunic were not exactly it. I joined Éowyn in sighing as she led me into a room.

"Do not worry, Lady Riana. It is not as hard as the older women would make it seem. Just dress properly and try not to speak out of turn and you should be fine."

"Speak out of turn?" Women had to take turns speaking at events such as this? I was more confused than ever.

"Where did you live before now, that you do not know such things?" Éowyn's voice was soft, curious, but not patronizing or judgmental. I took a deep breath, turning my eyes away from hers.

"A forest, with none but my little brother for company. The most I know of manners are the few things my parents were able to explain to me before they died." The Rohan woman stared at me in shock, one hand flying to cover her mouth. I barely restrained a growl of impatience. "It is of little importance, my lady," I said softly, turning away. "It was a long time ago."

"But not long enough ago for it to no longer hurt. Forgive me, I should not have asked." I sighed again, begging for patience to whoever was listening.

"There is nothing to forgive, Lady Éowyn. Do not worry about it. Now, you were saying something about proper clothing?" She brightened immediately.

"Indeed, I did. These are my chambers; since we are about the same size, I thought you might want to borrow one of mine." I nodded, and she dragged me over to a bed covered with a thick blanket. "Very well then, sit there and I will find you something!"

**(whee!)**

Théoden stood before the men at the head of the Great Hall, a golden cup in his hand. His eyes were dark with sadness, a sadness reflected across the hall. As he raised the cup, Aragorn stood a couple of seats to my right. With a loud scraping, the rest of those in the hall followed him to their feet as the King spoke, "Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead!"

In a thunderous voice and raised mugs, the hall spoke back, "Hail!" Each man raised a mug of ale to his lips and sipped. I followed suit and nearly gagged at the awful taste of ale as I swallowed. I glanced over at Aragorn, having caught a brief second of hesitation before he drank the hail from his mug. I wanted to ask him what was bothering him, but Théoden's voice stopped me.

"And now, we celebrate to remember them and to our victory their blood gave us!" Music started up as soon as he finished speaking and the Men began to disperse, some to get food, some to get more drink. I laid my mug on the table before me with a sight as Aragorn disappeared. He still wanted me to explain everything, what I was, where I came from, and how on Middle-Earth I had come to find the Fellowship, but I could not find it in me to do it yet. It had been hard enough to tell Legolas, and at the time, I trusted him as much as I trusted anyone. I closed my eyes, trying not to sigh again. I was doing that far too often these days…

A sudden noise from elsewhere in the room dragged me roughly from my thoughts. I opened my eyes and looked around, trying to see where it had come from. It did not take me long; a group of Men had circled around a table with a keg of ale and several mugs, joined my Legolas and Gimli. Éomer stood at the head, filling another mug. I slowly edged closer, trying to hear what they were saying.

"- no pauses, no spills," he was saying when I finally was close enough to hear. Confused, I glanced at Legolas; he was no help, as he looked almost as confused as me.

"And no regurgitation!" Gimli cried, his eyes alight with competition. Ah, so that was what was going on. Some sort of drinking competition. Understanding lit in Legolas' eyes as well.

"So it's a drinking game?" he asked, a little uncertainly, looking into the mug Éomer had handed him.

"Aye!" Gimli said happily, already bringing the mug to his mouth. "Last one standing wins!" The Men around him crowed happily, raising mugs as one asked,

"What shall we drink to?"

Another cried, and was echoed by the others, "To victory!" All of them, including Gimli, raised their mugs in a toast and began to chug the ale. Legolas, still a little unsure, took a small sip. Gimli laughed heartily.

"Come now, Elf, I know you can drink more than that!" Legolas glared at him and took a larger sip. I laughed. "Ah, Riana, do you care to join?" Still laughing, I shook my head.

"Perhaps I should judge instead? It must be difficult to compare who has had more when you are all rather inebriated," I answered. Gimli seemed to seriously consider that for a moment before a wide grin split his face.

"An excellent idea! What say all of you?" he asked the others. Legolas, still taking small sips from his mug, did not answer, but all the others cried, "Aye!" So I settled down on a bench, being careful of the dark blue dress Éowyn had lent me. I flicked my hair out of the way and set to watching the quickly-growing pile of ale mugs in front of everyone but Legolas; his grew, of course, albeit much slower the others. Gradually, however, it grew larger, and he drank faster, until he was nearly caught up with Gimli. I shook my head.

Men….

"Hear, hear!" Gimli cried drunkenly an hour later, "It's the Dwarves that go swimming with little hairy women!" I raised an eyebrow at that. Perhaps the Dwarf was slightly more drunk than he thought… I glanced at Legolas to get his opinion, and saw him examining his fingers, his brow creased in confusing.

"I feel something," he said, his words only slightly slurred. "A slight tingling in my fingers… I think it's affecting me." I raised the other eyebrow; if it was affecting him, it was not doing a very good job. He met my skeptical gaze and winked. I just shook my head and eyed the pile of mugs in front of him. Sometime in the last hour, it had grown larger than Gimli's. I looked back up at the Elf and he just grinned cheekily at me.

Gimli guffawed loudly as he proclaimed, "What did I say? He can't hold his liquor!" while gesturing wildly with a finger. A moment later, his eyes glazed over and he began to keel over backwards. He caught himself for just a moment as Legolas, the other Men, and I watched with bated breath. Seconds later, he crashed to the ground, passed out in a drunken stupor. Legolas smirked, looking oddly smug.

"Game over."


	33. Hidden Menace

**yay, another somewhat quick update! anyway as usual, i don't own lotr cast, sadly, but riana, cri, cearien, and the new kid introduced here are mine :D**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter: A Hidden Menace<p>

While Legolas crowed his victory to himself, I glanced around the rest of the hall. The drinking game had taken longer than I had thought it had; many people were either passed out on tables now or dancing around drunkenly, narrowly avoiding seriously harming themselves. I grumbled under my breath but stopped short of saying anything audible. Thankfully, strains of Hobbit song reached me before I could do anything stupid.

"You can search far and wide  
>You can drink the whole down dry!<br>But you'll never find a beer so brown  
>As the one we drink in our hometown!"<p>

Leaving the Elf to his own devices, I went in search of the Hobbits; I found them a moment later, dancing with incredible coordination for drunks on a tabletop. I laughed as they continued to sing about some sort of tavern from their hometowns. The onlookers laughed heartily, whether at the Hobbits or their own drunkenness, it was hard to tell. I stood there, one of the few sober ones left, chuckling slightly. Gandalf and Aragorn stood off to one side, their heads bent together for a moment. I ignored them in favor of the more amusing Hobbits as they finished their song,

"But the only brew for the brave and true!" the line trailed off as Pippin stared off into the distance. Merry called him back before anyone noticed and they finished, "But the only brew for the brave and true! Comes from the Green Dragon!" The two then threw their heads back, chugging whatever was left in their mugs. All around them, applause and laughter could be heard, but it all seemed far away from me.

Was that brief second of distraction caused by the ale? Or something else? Disturbed now, I turned to leave, ignoring the slight twinge in my leg. Behind me, I heard Pippin cry, "I win!" and wondered even more. He seemed totally back to normal now. I sighed, beginning to feel crushed by the atmosphere in the room. The celebrations seemed malicious all the sudden, with a distinct feeling of doom hanging over the heads of the Men in a dark cloud that only I could see. Gasping for breath, I finally broke through into the cool, still nighttime air.

A gentle breeze ruffled the skirt of my dress and blew my hair into my eyes. Growling, I brushed it back and held it firmly with one hand as I stared out across Rohan. Above me, clouds whirled past, caught in a stiff wind that we could only feel a little of below. The gentle serenity of the scene had me searching for something… else… lurking in the shadows. I let my long hair loose again, allowing it to hide the land from my eyes as I thought. I was not often wrong when I felt something was not right, but when I was wrong, I was very wrong indeed. I could not tell for certain whether what I felt was true or imagined, and it worried me. My eyes slowly raised to the sky again.

I longed to be up there, among the stars and the clouds and the half moon hanging over my head. The wind whistling through my hair and holding my wings up had always helped to clear my head; with a soft sight, I glanced back at my shoulder. The injury there was healing better than my leg, probably because I wasn't using it as much. But, if I tried to fly, I would rip it open again and when I truly needed to fly, I would not be able to. I growled, watching the clouds again with such longing.

"Rianadra?" The voice took me completely by surprise. I spun around, ignoring my leg as it, once again, informed me that it was still injured. Legolas stood behind me, a cloak hanging from one hand as he watched me with concern. "Are you well?" I turned back to the sky as he placed the cloak gently around my shoulders.

"That is an interesting question, really," I told him softly. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me back until I was leaning against him. I relaxed as he began to play with the ends of my long hair.

"How so?" he asked, and it took me a minute to remember what we were talking about.

I was silent for a time before I answered, "Something approaches, but I cannot see it. A shadow is covering my sight, but I cannot join the clouds to rid my mind of it." There was something else, too, I knew, but I could not quite pinpoint what it was. Legolas pulled me around to face him.

"Your wing will be healed before long, and you will fly again. But that is not what bothers you most, nor is the hidden thing." How did he know me so well? I wondered. But I did not ask him; I was not sure I really wanted to know the answer. But what was it… Cri. Sudden pain lashed through my chest, as though something were tearing through skin. My knees gave out and I collapsed against Legolas. "Rianadra?" he asked, worried.

"Cri… something has happened to Cri!" I gasped, trying to push myself up to my feet. The Elf, however, was having none of that. He tugged me over to a flight of stairs and pressed me down onto one of them. I hardly noticed, my attention was so tuned into the feelings of my little brother. But, as quickly as it had come, the pain faded, leaving me with nothing. I nearly wept at the loss. I had almost had him! If only I had held onto the connection for a few seconds longer… A gentle, cool hand lifted my chin.

"All will be well, Rianadra. What just happened showed your brother yet lives, does it not?" My eyes widened. He was right! Cri was alive; he had to be! Suddenly desperately needing comfort, I flung my arms around Legolas' neck and buried my face against him. He hugged me back, not saying anything, just holding me.

We stayed that way for a long, long time.

**(merae)**

Cri whimpered softly in his sleep, shifting under the mound of blankets over his body. Faramir watched him closely, wishing more than ever that he could send the boy to Minas Tirith; more importantly, though, he desperately wished the boy could go straight to the Houses of Healing _in _Minas Tirith itself. Injuries inflicted by one of the Nazgŭl rarely healed quickly or well. Needless to say, he was greatly concerned for his young friend.

And to top it all off, the victory they had celebrated only yesterday was now a distant memory. After the Ringwraiths had fled, they had barely managed to keep the Western shore theirs. Now, that hard-won victory- if one could truly call it that- was slowly being ripped from them. The young captain of Gondor sighed deeply, green eyes on the still form of the boy in the bed in front of him. Cri had done little but groan softly in his sleep and move around restlessly under the covers since he had been brought here yesterday. Faramir wondered briefly what dreams could be troubling him so then decided he most likely did not want to know. The boy had been though much in his short life so far. Faramir sighed again, gently pushing the boy's long brown hair out of his sweaty face.

Distant shouts distracted him momentarily; he almost groaned aloud. There were times when he wished he wasn't the Steward's son and that he wasn't a Captain. He would have liked nothing better than to be able to sit here until the dragonling boy in front of him woke, but he had duties to his father and to his men. And one of those was the defense of this city. Boromir, his much-missed older brother, had long held this city intact. Faramir, the younger by a few years, was having a great deal more trouble than it seemed his older brother had never even dreamed of. Either that or he really was as incapable as his father always claimed him to be.

"What is that look for, Faramir?" The young Captain jumped nearly a foot in the air at the small, weak voice from the bed. The boy shouldn't be awake for several more hours! But there he was, orange eyes cracked open just enough to glower over at him. Faramir sighed.

"Nothing you need to worry about, lad," he told the boy, hoping he would leave it at that. A fool's hope, as it turned out.

"If it's making you look like you are going to your death, it does indeed concern me," the boy grumbled, trying to push himself up. A glare from Faramir had him temporarily reconsidering, but a minute later, he was sitting up on his own next to a highly disgruntled Man. "What is bothering you?"

"It truly is nothing, lad, truly." He repeated himself more so he could convince himself than the boy. A skeptical glance was his only response. Faramir was about to say something else, perhaps something that would convince both of them, when another of his men entered, looking rather frazzled.

"Captain Faramir?" he asked hesitantly, knowing how little the other Man wanted to leave the boy in the bed's side. At the captain's slightly irritated nod, he went on, "We need you out there, Captain. Something's happening on the other shore." Faramir sighed, glancing over at the boy in front of him. Cri nodded firmly.

"Go, I'll be fine." Faramir nodded and left swiftly, checking to make sure his armor and sword were secure. He glanced back once more at the brown-haired boy; Cri gave him a look that said, "Get moving!" With a small chuckle, Faramir obeyed, moving to fight with his men.

**(yes, cri pov, finally)**

The door clicked shut as Faramir left, and Cri sighed deeply. Moving slowly, being careful of the Nazgŭl-inflicted wounds on his chest, the dragonling sat up. He peeled his shirt back to peek at the bandages, wondering if his wounds had healed enough for him to do what he was planning. Carefully, he pushed the blankets off and swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing in preparation for screaming pain from his chest. It never came.

Startled, Cri unbound a few strips of bandage and stared at the scratches- not wounds, scratches, like he had fallen into a thorn bush with massive thorns- on his chest. How had no one noticed they had healed this much in what could only have been a day or two at most since he had been hurt? The young dragonling shook his head, wondering if it was natural for a dragonling to heal far faster than a human… he thought it was, but perhaps not quite that fast.

Still deep in thought, Cri crossed the room on remarkably steady legs and looked at the leather breastplate sitting on a chair. Deep gouges marred its once-smooth front, blurring the image of a white tree. Faramir had told him the white tree was the symbol of his home, Gondor. Cri wondered if it was significant that it had been destroyed on the breastplate he had been wearing, one not of Gondor, not even of the race of Men. "No," he whispered to himself, gently touching the marks. "That cannot be."

Shouts, screams, and the guttural yelling of voices that could not be human called him away. Rushing as fast as his weakened body would move, Cri shot to the window, shocked at what he saw. Black creatures, Orcs, moved through the city, Men falling before them faster than Cri had thought possible. One hand stretched out, as though he was trying to throw fire, but the power he had felt when he killed his captors had gone dormant again. Cursing, Cri withdrew his hand, wishing he knew how to call his power forth when he was not in danger. He was about to try again when the door behind him flew open. Cri whirled around, expecting an Orc, but it was a young soldier, not much older than Cri himself, standing in the doorway.

"Oh, good, you are out of bed already," he gasped, leaning on the door for support. Cri moved forward, concerned, but the other waved him off. "Come, quickly! I have orders from Captain Faramir to get you to Minas Tirith." Cri just stood there, blinking as though in shock. "Come with me, quickly, we don't have time!" When Cri did not respond, the other simply grabbed his arm and dragged him out the door. "There is a horse waiting for us at the gate, but we must hurry if we wish not to be caught!"

The two boys hurried, hiding in shadows from Orcs as they passed them. Finally, they made it to a hidden gate. The soldier opened it and tried to push Cri through; but Cri had finally shaken off his shock and pushed back. "Faramir! I can't leave him!" The soldier gripped his shoulders.

"You must! He will come back when he can. But it is his duty to defend this city, he will not leave it until he absolutely must. He wants you to be safe, though. He knows you are not well enough to fight." Cri started to growl at this and the other boy quickly backpedaled, "He knows you _can_, he simply does not want you to be at risk, since you are still hurt!" The dragonling sighed softly but allowed himself to be shoved through the door. A saddled horse stood at the ready outside the city walls. The other soldier rushed towards it, turning to gesture wildly to Cri.

"Hurry!" Now feeling the other's urgency, Cri moved swiftly, allowing the boy to help him mount the great horse. The soldier swung on behind him and kicked the animal into a gallop. Cri ignored his sense of doom as the horse whirled and took off to the East and the rising sun.

**one last thing, although you have done very well with this thus far (lol) REVIEW PLEASE AND THANK YOU!**


	34. An Honest Fool

**holy crap,i am so sorry this took so long to get up... bleach ate my inspiration... but it's back now so i should be able to update with SOMETHING resembling regularity again... don't kill me, or this will NEVER get finished... :D anyway, enjoy!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Thirty-Four: An Honest Fool<p>

Legolas and I stayed on the edge of the Golden Hall for what seemed like hours. The stars glowed above our heads while a gentle breeze tossed hair and cloaks around. But we didn't speak. There was no need for words, not anymore. Instead, we just sat there, me leaning against his arm, and watched the sky.

After a while, though, my eyelids began to droop shut. I yawned and cuddled closer to the Elf without realizing what I was doing. He glanced down at me and smiled; I tried to glare at him but my eyes wouldn't stay open long enough for it to work. Finally I gave up and simply huddled next to him, allowing myself to fall asleep. Before I went completely, though, I felt him wrap one arm around me and pull his cloak around the both of us. I smiled and relaxed. I was as safe as I could be when I was with him. Even the memory of my brother's pain couldn't quite reach me here. I sighed as sleep overwhelmed me.

Some time later, I woke to hushed voices nearby. Legolas' voice I caught, and Aragorn's, but I couldn't hear what they were saying, only the tones. Slowly I sat up, realizing I was resting my head on the Elf's cloak with my own draped over me like a blanket. I pulled my cloak tighter around me and moved to stand with the others. The Elf's voice sounded worried, and Aragorn seemed unusually stiff; this got me feeling a little concerned myself.

"What is going on?" I asked, but neither of them answered, staring instead off at the invisible horizon. I looked from one to the other, about to smack them for being obstinate. "Legolas? Aragorn? What is it?" Finally, one of them responded, although I was not quite sure if he was answering my question or only thinking out loud.

"The stars are veiled," Legolas murmured, his voice oddly subdued. I glanced up at him as he gently placed a hand on my arm. I closed my eyes, trying to sense what he did; I felt it only a moment later: a great stirring in the East. Evil. And it was growing closer. Worried more now than before, I whispered,

"Something… Something stirs in the East." Legolas' hand on my shoulder tightened, telling me I was not wrong. Aragorn stared out across the land as though concentration alone would bring him what the Elf and I felt.

"Yes, a sleepless malice… The Eye of the Enemy is moving…" That was what I felt, I thought. That evil, it was the Enemy. I shrank back slightly, fearing he could feel me as easily as I could feel him. Legolas put his arm completely around my shoulders as he whispered, "Fear not. We are as protected here as we can be. He cannot reach us here." That did very little to ease me, as it was not just my own safety I feared for; surely he remembered that.

"Legolas-" I heard Aragorn say, sounding increasingly worried. I closed my eyes, trying to seal myself off from the feeling of evil, but it refused to dissipate. Scared now, I backed away and kept going until my back hit the wall and clapped my hands over my ears. A sound, like a great wind, came out of nowhere and I nearly screamed. I couldn't block it. All of a sudden, a voice called in my head, dark and evil and so full of hatred and anger that I had to cry out,

"_I see you_!" I whimpered as Legolas cried, "He is here!" The sound of booted feet told me someone, probably Aragorn, had taken off inside; cool hands on the sides of my face said that Legolas had stayed.

"Rianadra?" Agonizingly slowly I cracked my eyes open and looked up at him. "Where is he?" Somehow, he knew that I could feel the presence of Evil; I closed my eyes again and tried to find him. Ignoring the pain as best I could, I followed the trail to the room the others were staying in. All my breath left me in a whoosh. My mouth worked, but no sound came out. I stared up at Legolas in desperation. He knew.

"The others?" I nodded and he closed his eyes as if in prayer. "We must hurry then; Aragorn cannot hold him for long!" He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. "Hurry!" Half dragging, half carrying me, he rushed us back into the building and back towards our sleeping chamber. I was released and slumped to the floor, barely understanding what was going on as Legolas rushed to help Aragorn; the Man was struggling with what looked to me like a ball of fire but was the source of the Evil. Legolas rushed forwards with concern in his eyes as I moved to stand as far away from the thing as possible and not leave the room.

Just as the Elf reached his side and grabbed his shoulders, Aragorn lost his grip on the ball, dropping it and sending it rolling across the room; the flames died as it rolled, revealing it to be the Seeing-stone we had taken from Isengard. Gandalf rushed to cover it before turning to study the others in the room. Silence reigned for a moment before Merry's voice rudely broke it.

"Pippin!" he cried, scampering over to stand over his friend; Gandalf followed, muttering something about foolish Tooks under his breath. Slowly, the presence of evil faded from the room, and my mind cleared. From my position near the door, I watched Gandalf crouch next to the terrified Pippin, gently covering his face with a hand. The poor Hobbit gasped, his eyes darting around the room fearfully as though he expected something to come attack him at any moment. Sadly, he probably did, considering what he had most likely seen in the stone. I closed my eyes as the Wizard questioned him.

"Look at me," he commanded gently. "What did you see?" I listened closely as Pippin answered.

"A tree… there was a white tree, in a courtyard of stone. It… it was dead! The city was burning…" He trailed off, closing his eyes as though to block the images in his mind. Gandalf watched him closely, murmuring,

"Minas Tirith? Is that was you saw?" Pippin's eyes opened, wide as saucers as he answered.

"I saw… I saw Him!" I remembered the feeling of evil in my mind and understood his pain. "I could hear his voice in my head…" I winced at that, remembering that brief moment where I had heard it. I had barely withstood it; my appreciation for the strength of Halflings grew a little.

"What did you tell him?" Gandalf honestly looked worried now, and I turned to share a nervous glance with Legolas and Aragorn. "Speak!"

In a trembling voice, Pippin said, "He asked me my name. I didn't answer." He was silent for a minute, but eventually whispered, "He hurt me…"

"What did you tell him about Frodo and the Ring?"

**(in the Great Hall)**

A short while later, Gandalf had gathered all the important people in the Great Hall. Théoden stood before a small table covered with maps, Gimli sat in a chair by the pillars, and Aragorn, Legolas and I were studying the maps. Gandalf stood at the head of us all, while Pippin and Merry sat in chairs at the back. The Wizard studied our small group before announcing,

"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes. A fool, but an honest fool he remains. He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring." A collective sigh of relief flowed across our company as Gandalf continued, "We've been strangely fortunate." My eyebrows raised a little, wondering how on Arda this could be considered fortunate. Legolas' gentle hand on my shoulder kept me quiet as Gandalf went on. "Pippin saw in the Palantir a glimpse of the enemy's plan." He looked over all of us as he stated, "Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith."

Théoden moved to speak, but Gandalf interrupted him before he even could begin, "His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing. He knows the heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed; there is courage still, strength enough perhaps to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle Earth uniting under one banner." With his eyes glued to the King of Rohan's, he went on, "He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a king return to the throne of men. If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war!" Théoden just stared at him for a moment.

"Tell me," he said at last, with ice in his voice, "why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?" I was considering a tactful retreat to leave the old men to their battle of wills when Aragorn interrupted,

"I will go."

"No!" Gandalf turned on him; I slid behind Legolas to avoid his attention as he and Aragorn argued.

"They _must_ be warned!"

"They will be!" Gandalf came to whisper in Aragorn's ear; it was only due to proximity that I heard what he said. "You must come to Minas Tirith by another road. Follow the river and look to the black ships." He turned back to the others, speaking in a normal tone again, "Understand this: things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith. And I won't be going alone."

I watched as the Wizard moved to talk to the two Hobbits; they left the hall shortly after. Théoden bent over his maps with some of his men. Aragorn followed Gandalf, Merry, and Pippin after a few minutes of studying maps. I sighed softly and moved away from Legolas. When he looked at me in concern, I muttered, "I need air. I will be on the rooftop if anyone is searching for me." He nodded, worried blue eyes on my face. I shrugged and left, heading for one of the many ladders that led up to the roof. Making sure no one saw me, I shot up and settled myself on the highest point that I wouldn't roll off and stared across the plains.

There was certainly a fair bit to think about, Pippin, the Seeing-stone, Mordor, Cri, and my blooming closeness to a certain Elf chief among them. I sighed, wrapping my arms around my legs, wishing I were fully healed. Once again, I needed to fly, to join the clouds and the stars, to feel the cold wind on my face, just to clear my head. Down here, it was so confused and confusing. I could hardly concentrate. With yet another deep sigh, I settled for watching the sky as the clouds roved across it like ghostly ships carried by a swift current.

Below me, a blur of white caught my attention. It was Gandalf and Shadowfax, and most likely Pippin, riding swiftly to Minas Tirith. I watched them until they disappeared and the light was beginning to fade before turning my attention back to the skies. My mind was no clearer than it had been hours before, and I was tired of waiting. Slowly, I stood on the roof of the Golden Hall, my wings spreading out around me. I was about to leap from the roof when a voice called my name from below.

"Riana!" I cursed, glaring down at whoever had dared to stop me from flying, but when I saw who it was, I held my tongue. Aragorn. That accursed Man had picked the worst possible time to come demanding an explanation, for I assumed that was what he wanted. Haltingly, I clambered back down to the ground and landed directly in front of him.

"Yes?" I grumbled; he just looked at me. After a moment of this, I snapped, "What?"

"Are you willing to explain now, or must I wait even longer?" My mouth twisted slightly in distaste, but I agreed.

"May we go somewhere more private? This is not something I wish everyone to hear." He nodded, leading me off to the stables, which were blessedly empty of anyone unfamiliar. Legolas was already there, gently stroking Arod's nose. He turned to smile tenderly at me as Aragorn deposited me on a stool. I raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"We thought it would be easier if someone who already knew was present," he explained, leaving Arod to stand next to me. I nodded, looking around for Gimli. Legolas knew who I was looking for and added, "He is on his-" he stopped as the barn door slid open, revealing a disgruntled Gimli. I sighed again, truly wishing Aragorn would have allowed me to fly. But I was here, and they did deserve an explanation.

Closing my eyes briefly and praying they would understand, I turned to face them and began my story.

**well, that's it for this chapter... sorry if it was really filler-y... i was literally trying to shove through sludge in my brain trying to remember what i was doing... anyway, reviews are greatly appreciated, so... leave me one? please?**


	35. Worries

**oh my god i'm so sorry this took so long... and after i promised to not make you wait as long as last time... *shakes head sadly* anyway, as usual, i don't own lotr, but cri, cearien, and riana are mine :)**

**reviews are loved, especially since they give me the drive to keep writing!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Thirty-Five: Uncertainties<p>

I sat back on top of the roof much later, the stars glimmering above me. Leaning back, I looked up at the stars and the clouds rushing across the sky, carried by a great wind. I thought, as my hair blew around my face, of both everything and nothing. Below me, I heard the sounds of preparations being made, although for what, I was not exactly sure. But I certainly had a lot to think about, so I ignored them in favor of my own, private thoughts.

Between my little brother, Aragorn and what Gandalf had said to him, and Legolas and my ever-growing and slightly irritating attraction to him, and my I could have spent months on top of rooftops and still never figure it out. I sighed, closing my eyes as I remembered their reactions to hearing and seeing what I was.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

"So, basically, you're telling me that you're not human at all?" Gimli growled, glaring at the young gir-dragonling before him. He'd always known there was something off about her, but he'd never guessed it would go that far, especially when she looked so human… Riana smiled nervously at him, her expression wary.

"That is true, Master Dwarf. I am a distant relative of the dragons of old, with no human blood in me."

"So how to you look so human?" the Dwarf grumbled, still miffed.

"Honestly," she answered, her voice soft, "I don't know. This is as I have always been, as my parents were, and as their parents were before them. I do not know how we came to be this way, only that we are." He huffed, not believing it a bit. Legends survived, didn't they? He was about to ask when she answered his unspoken question, "Certainly, in the past, there were legends, but… most of our legends have died with us."

The sad, quiet tone to her voice kept him from asking any more persona questions of that sort. Instead he kept quiet for a moment, trying to think of other questions he could ask. It took him a little while, but he remembered the strange power she had showed on several occasions.

"Does this have to do with what you were going to explain to me months ago? Back when we were fighting by the river." Riana smiled slightly but didn't answer at first. Gimli sighed deeply, his patience tried almost past bearing, and asked again, "Does it?" Riana moved her hand to her sword-hilt, smiling still.

"It does. As you know, this sword was gifted to me by the Lady of the Wood. At first glance," she paused, drawing the blade smoothly from its sheath and holding it aloft so it reflected the lamplight, "she appears as most Elven-blades do. However…" She paused, uncertainty in her eyes. Legolas placed a hand on her shoulder; Gimli wondered once again- and certainly not for the last time- what had gone on between them. They had grown closer, that was true, but he hadn't known exactly how close.

"Go on, Rianadra. It is safe to tell them," he barely heard the Elf whisper in the young gir- dragonling's ear. This was going to get complicated… Although knowing she wasn't human did certainly explain a few things, like her hair and eyes, and her elf-like build. Riana's deep sigh brought his attention back to their conversation.

"My people, many years ago, crafted weapons like this, similar to Elf-blades, but with a Power smelted in as the blade was forged. It was a dangerous way of crafting swords, but they were powerful, very powerful, and many of them wound up with a consciousness of their own that was not found in any other weapon crafted. That Power would respond to only one of my kind, although they may not know for whom it was made when they forged it… I never fully understood it although I had heard of the practice."

After a moment's thought, Gimli asked, "So that power is what made your sword glow and you to fight like that, having never been trained?" She nodded.

"I believe so, at any rate." He sighed gruffly.

"And you were worried about telling us this, why?"

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

I grinned at that memory. After that, the conversation had flowed smoothly, with me explaining things, like my dragon form and wings and ability to fly. Indeed, it had been a very amusing conversation; since it, I had been wondering why I had been so frightened of telling them what I was. The only reason I could come up with was the primal fear instilled in virtually any nonhuman being… that fear of being discovered, being hunted… and killed.

It was that fear that had held me silent, and that fear that would keep me so. I couldn't risk anyone other than the ones I trusted knowing the truth about me. I groaned aloud; this was getting far more complicated than I had ever expected it to be. I half wish Gandalf were here, so I could ask him his thoughts, but he was gone. Gone…. How I hated that word. It made me think of far too many people who had vanished from my life. My parents, who I barely remembered, my little brother, and the friends I had made since leaving Mirkwood. I sighed deeply, burying my face in my hands.

A soft voice startled me out of my reverie a while later, "Rianadra?" My shoulders twitched slightly, but I didn't startle any more than that; by now I was somewhat accustomed to the Elf's love of sneaking up on people. I turned to face him, pushing my hair away from my face.

"Legolas," I answered, my voice equally soft. He smiled at me, and I tried to return it. I don't think I did very well, though, since the look in his eyes was deeply concerned.

"It is not wise to spend so much time alone," he told me gently, moving to sit next to me. "It makes your friends worry." I ran a hand through my silver hair, trying not to sigh yet again.

"I know that, but… I can hardly think down there… it's like the air changes, makes it hard to breathe." He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him. "I don't mean to make you worry, Legolas," I added as an afterthought, knowing it was mostly him he talked about when he spoke of my "friends". He chuckled softly.

"I know. I know you need to think, but I think you should not be alone." I leaned against him, appreciating his silent warmth and support. Maybe he was right, and I was spending too much time alone. I had been by myself a great deal since Helm's Deep. Burying my face in his shoulder, I whined deep in my throat. He heard me and chuckled again. "Which is why I am here now. We need not speak, but you should not be alone, not right now." My throat grew tight at his words, and I knew, absolutely certain, that I loved him then.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

It was barely noon by the time Cri and the young soldier of Gondor arrived at Minas Tirith. Despite the ride not having taken as long as either of them had anticipated, Cri was exhausted; he felt burdened with a weariness that went beyond physical and mental, and into something far deeper, and far more frightening. He was barely staying on the horse's back, the young soldier supporting him more often than he supported himself.

He was exhausted enough to hardly even register when they arrived at the great city; none of its grandeur registered with him. It was all he could do to stay awake, let alone notice something more than the horse's black mane in front of his eyes. The soldier seemed concerned, as he brushed off the guards at the gate, instead riding straight off into the city.

He stopped finally in front of a series of houses, and swung off immediately, calling for a healer. Someone responded only seconds later; Cri hardly heard what they were saying, catching only snippets.

"…needs help, he's barely…"

"…take care of him, my Captain is worried…"

"Take him inside," a hard but kindly voice spoke, and Cri heard that. Gentle hands helped him off the horse and into the house before him. The new voice kept speaking, but the young dragonling didn't hear a word he said, conscious only of the hands that helped him out of his riding clothes and into a bed. He was asleep before his head even touched the pillow.


	36. Visions

**and my muse finally came back from vacation! *holds up "yay" sign* aHEM... anyway, i'm glad this bit popped up when it did, and i think it's better written than the past few chapters... GOD those were humiliating to post, they were so bad... yeesh... anyway, enough blabber from the author, on with the disclaimer and the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: i do not own LOTR or any related franchises. However, Riana, Cri, Cearien, and Callyn are mine, so NO STEALING please and thank you :)**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Thirty-Six: Visions<p>

Faramir panted harshly as he clung to his horse's neck. Above and around him, he could hear the screams of both his fellow Men and the Fell Beasts as they attacked. Ducked so close to his horse's neck he could feel its mane tickling his nose, the young Captain of Gondor could see nothing around him but what was ahead. Perhaps this was a blessing; he did not, in any form, wish to see the carnage around him as the Fell Beasts mauled his company.

He forced himself to only look at his goal: the shining gates of the White City ahead. If they could only make it to those gates intact. A harsh wind shoved him forwards, almost throwing him from his horse as one of the beasts swooped over him, barely missing taking his head off as it passed. Faramir whispered a fervent prayer to anything that was listening that he and his men make it home safe. And it seemed someone was listening.

A beam of brilliant white light shone above the company as Faramir begged in his mind for safety. Before him, he could barely make out a figure in white, with a proud white staff held aloft over his head. The Captains' breath left him in a whoosh of relief. "Mithrandir!" he called once he had enough breath back to call. Finally, he risked a glance upwards; he was glad to see the black beasts of the Ringwraiths flying away, back towards the Black Land. Relieved more than he cared to admit, he lowered his gaze again in time to see Gandalf join his company as they made it safely to the city.

One hundred horses flooded through the great gates of the White City, and Faramir allowed himself to go limp with relief for just a moment. He made certain, however, that none of his men saw how frightened he had been and how glad he was to have the solid walls between him and the enemy. The young Captain sighed deeply as the rest of his company arrived safely through the gates, Gandalf among the last. At the sight of the Wizard, Faramir called,

"Mithrandir!" The white-robed figure turned his head to glance at the young Gondorian Captain as he went on, "They broke through our defenses; they've taken the bridge and the West Bank. Battalions of Orcs are crossing the river." Another of his company, and one of Faramir's father's advisors called as he came closer,

"It is as Lord Denethor predicted!" The words he spoke carried a heavy weight and caused several of the others to fidget, Faramir among them. "Long has he forseen this Doom!" Faramir shuddered, ignoring the slight rattle of his armor. It was true: his father had long predicted something like this would happen. However, it seemed Gandalf the White did not agree.

"Forseen and done nothing!" he snapped, his stallion whirling around. Faramir, about to respond, felt his words die in his throat at the sight of the creature sitting before the Wizard.

A Halfling.

Faramir could do naught but stare at the poor thing; he shifted uncomfortably under the Man's look. Gandalf looked between the two, one white eyebrow raised. "Faramir?" Faramir forced himself to look away from the Halfling and meet the Wizard's eyes. "This is not the first Halfling to have crossed your path." It was not a question, but Faramir shook his head and answered anyway.

"No." He could not help but notice how the young one's eyes lit up with excitement at that.

"You've seen Frodo and Sam!" he exclaimed, grinning. Were he not so exhausted, Faramir would have been grinning as well, his happiness was so contagious. Gandalf, on the other hand, was more serious.

"Where? When!"

"In Ithilien. Not two days ago," he answered. Faramir saw a slight light of joy show through the Wizard's eyes, and he hated to break it; but he had to know. Gandalf had to know which way that creature had taken the Halflings. "Gandalf!" The White Rider looked back at him. "They've taken the road to the Morgul Vale." The Man winced slightly as he watched the happiness drain from Gandalf's face and horror take its place.

"And then the path of Cirith Ungol?" Faramir nodded, wishing desperately that he had better news to deliver. The small Halfling looked between them, confusion and fear now written all over his young face.

"What does that mean?" When neither of them answered him, he looked to Gandalf, "Gandalf, what's wrong?" The Wizard ignored him, his grey eyes fixed on Faramir's.

"Tell me everything. All you know." Faramir was about to agree when a brown-haired lad nearly crashed into his horse. The boy backed away a little, just enough for Faramir to recognize Callyn, the lad he'd sent to bring Cri safely to the Houses of Healing. The fact that he was here was a good sign; the fact that his eyes were wide with something resembling panic was not.

"Callyn?" The boy looked up at him, one hand over his heart as he tried to regain his breath. "What's wrong, lad?" Callyn looked up at him, his eyes wide and fearful.

"The boy you told me to bring here. The injured one…" he trailed off, suddenly unable to meet Faramir's gaze. The Captain dismounted swiftly and touched the lad's shoulder.

"It's all right, Callyn. Just tell me. Is Cri…?" The lad immediately shook his head.

"He's alive, but… He's… ill, Captain." Ill? Faramir thought. That could certainly not be good.

"Where is he?" Callyn gestured behind him, and Faramir assumed he meant the Houses of Healing. The young Captain turned to Gandalf, apology in his eyes. "I am sorry, but I must see to him." He was surprised at the understanding in Gandalf's eyes and the familiarity in the Halfling's.

"Cri?" Gandalf said softly, a slight smile in the corners of his mouth. Faramir nodded.

"He appeared out of nowhere some time before we found the Halflings… Gandalf, do you know him?" The Wizard shook his head.

"I do not know the child himself, but I know someone who very much wishes to see him again." Faramir felt his jaw drop. Cri's sister?

"Do you mean-" before he got a chance to finish, Callyn gripped his arm.

The boy's eyes were wide. Apparently, Cri had that effect on more than just Faramir. "Please, Captain, he's calling for you." Faramir grew serious and turned back to him.

"Lead on, Callyn."

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

_Flames… Flames everywhere. Cri stood upon the brink of a land of ash and smoke, with fire everywhere. He looked about him, wondering where he was. This was not home. This was not Mirkwood or the mountains he could just barely remember. This place… It was evil. Evil as his sister had spoken of it…_

_ Riana! Where was she? The young dragonling spun around, searching, but she was nowhere. Gone. She was gone, he remembered now. The black creatures… Orcs… had taken him away from her. Slowly, his hand rose to touch his throat, where their ropes had burned a scar into his skin. A soft whimper escaped him, a whimper that turned to a scream when he turned again._

_ A great eye hung before him. Cri screamed in pain and fear as the Eye's gaze burned into him, grinding him into the ground as a voice spoke around him, in him, through him._

"I see you, child! I see you, I know you!" _Cri curled up, still trying to scream although he no longer had a voice to do so. _

_ "You do not know me!" his mind cried back, the part of Riana that was still with him speaking. "YOU DO NOT KNOW ME!"_

"I know what you are. You are but a child, a pawn, to be moved. Controlled. With you, I can do as I please!" _Cri's throat bled as he tried to scream. His body convulsed as he cried._

_ "Riana! Faramir! Help me, please!" Tears poured from his eyes despite his fighting them back. The voice laughed, evil amusement in the Eye before him._

"You think they can help you now?" _Cri cried, the fear and the pain more than his young body could handle. _"You are a fool, boy! No one can help you! There is no life in the Void! Only… DEATH!" _Cri groaned, cried, as before him the vision changed. Now, he was seeing through another's eyes as two hundred riders charged towards him. His eyes locked onto one, and Cri felt himself go numb._

_ Faramir._

_ He was riding to his death!_

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Faramir clung to the boy as he struggled against a foe only he could see and screamed until his throat bled. Callyn hovered nearby, looking torn, like he wanted either to flee or stay and try and help the boy. Faramir wished desperately that there were some way to help him, but none of the healers knew anything. They had done what they could, they said. Nothing more could be done to help him.

"Fara… mir…" Cri whispered brokenly, tears slipping from his closed eyes. "Don't… go… You'll… you'll die!" He jerked harshly in Faramir's grip; the Man felt his body go cold. Die? What was the boy talking about?

"Cri?" But he was not awake, only talking in his sleep. Faramir turned to Callyn with an order, "Go find Mithrandir. If anyone, he will know how to help him. For now, I must go speak with my father…" he trailed off as the lad nodded and rushed off. A healer appeared in the doorway as Cri quieted.

"Faramir…" The young Captain nodded.

"My father has ordered me to appear." The healer placed a hand on his shoulder, offering what comfort she could.

"You were wise to call for the Wizard. Perhaps he can do something we cannot." He sighed deeply, casting a longing look towards the boy under mounds of blankets… Valar, he looked so small… A single tear dropped from his eyes as he turned back towards the old woman. She smiled gently, "We will care for him. Be wise again and do not keep your father waiting."

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Wishing to be anywhere but standing before his father, Faramir argued his case for leaving Osgiliath. "I did what I judged to be right." Foolishly, he hoped his father would accept this reasoning. Unsurprisingly, he did not.

"What you judged to be right?" Faramir hid a wince at his father's skeptical tone. "You sent the Ring of Power into Mordor in the hands of a witless Halfling!" Now came the anger. Faramir sighed deeply as his father went on, "It should have been brought back to the Citadel to be kept safe! Hidden! Dark and deep in the vaults, not to be used… Except in the direst of needs."

There it was, the same call Faramir had almost fallen prey to. The dark call of the Ring of Power. In a vain, fool's hope, he tried to make his father see reason, "I would not use the Ring. Not if Minas Tirith fell into ruin and only I could save her." His father scoffed.

"Ever you desire to appear lordly and gracious as a king of old!" Faramir hid an age-old hurt at his father's sarcasm, choosing to attempt to turn a deaf ear and a blind eye. As usual, it didn't work. "Boromir would have remembered his father's need. He would have brought me a kingly gift." Faramir sighed, hoping the pain was not evident in his voice as he spoke.

"Boromir would not have brought the Ring. He would have stretched out his hand to this thing and taken it. He would have fallen!" Instantly, Faramir regretted his words as his father's face went red with rage.

"You know nothing of this matter!" he yelled as he leaped to his feet and stumbled. Faramir, though hurt and angry, approached him, hoping to help. But then his father's face changed, from rage to the smile he only wore when Boromir was present. "My son!" he cried, tears pooling in his old eyes. Faramir only stood there, knowing it wasn't him his father saw, but hoping nonetheless. After a moment, his hopes were dashed anew as his father's eyes returned to him and the anger reappeared. "Leave me!" he snapped impatiently.

Nursing the hurt and loneliness talking to his father always left him with, Faramir left.

**now that i am alive again, i will request this... REVIEWS PLEASE! they give me the urge to write more... hehehe... and to those who seem to have forgotten me, COME BACK! I'M NOT DEAD YET!**


	37. Gatherings and Warnings

**hallo again! i apologize in advance for the rushing through this chapter... apparently my muse is not as strongly back as i would like her to be... ah, well... **

**i don't own lotr (sadly) but all OC's are mine**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Friendship Built to Last<p>

Once outside his father's audience chamber, Faramir allowed himself a moment to breathe. It was always terribly difficult to speak with him one-on-one… Never was he good enough, strong enough, or brave enough. It was always Boromir… Boromir, who had never held their father's favoritism over his little brother. Faramir sighed yet again, wishing there was something he could do to change his father's mind about him. He shoved himself off the wall he'd leaned on and was about to head back to Cri's room when a small voice stopped him.

"What were you _thinking_, Peregrin Took?" Faramir could have laughed, having wondered that very thing many times. "What service can a Hobbit offer such a great lord of Men?" Faramir felt himself grow solemn at this; so the young Halfling had sworn service to his father. Brave of him, but well done. He stepped around the corner and smiled at the image before him: the Hobbit looked like little more than a child, sitting there, his bare feet hanging a fair distance from the ground.

"It was well done," he informed the little Halfling, smiling when he jumped and stood. "A generous deed should not be checked with cold counsel. You are to join the Tower Guard!" The Halfling- Peregrin Took- smiled up at him uncertainly.

"I didn't think they'd find any livery to fit me," he said, gesturing to his uniform. Faramir recognized it as his from many years ago.

"That once belonged to a boy of the city. A very foolish boy who wasted many hours slaying dragons than attending to his studies." Peregrin smiled broadly, his large eyes lighting up.

"This was yours?" he asked. Faramir nodded.

"Yes, it was mine. My father had it made for me." Peregrin looked down at himself, still grinning.

"Well, I'm taller than you were then. Though I'm not likely to grow any more. Except sideways." Faramir had to laugh at that; Peregrin laughed as well.

"Never fitted me either… Boromir was always the soldier. They were so alike, he and my father." He fought off a feeling of nostalgia and longing for his brother. "Proud. Stubborn, even. But strong." He sighed, not realizing how much was showing on his face; Peregrin's voice informed him.

"I think you have strength of a different kind. And one day your father will see it." Faramir smiled but his response was cut short by another guardsman speaking to the Halfling.

"Lord Denethor is ready for you, Peregrin Took."

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Pippin knelt before the dais, in front of the Lord Denethor. He fought to remember the words he was to speak, the ones in which he swore his fealty to the old man sitting before him.

"Here do I fealty and swear service to Gondor. In peace or war. In living or dying." He swallowed; this next part was going to be difficult to say. "F-f-from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me or… or… or death… take me." He lowered his head, the weight of what he had just spoken weighing heavily on his shoulders. Rustling of cloth before him drew his eyes up. Lord Denethor had stood, and was towering over him, a slight smile on his face.

He spoke then, in a lighter tone than before, but still frightening to a battle-shy Hobbit, "And I shall not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given." He placed his hand with a gold signet ring on his finger, before Pippin's eyes. After a second's hesitation, the Halfling kissed the ring and lowered his head again. Lord Denethor, however, had other ideas, pulling Pippin's head up. The Halfling nervously met his lord's eyes, seeing a surface-only smile on his face.

"Fealty with love," Denethor stated. "Valor with honor." He moved past Pippin, and the young Halfling stood and turned as the Steward turned to sit at the table, a harsh look now on his face. "Disloyalty with vengeance!" With cold uncaring, Denethor loaded a plate with food, tomatoes, lettuce, and other things that made a hungry Hobbit's stomach rumble. Pippin ignored it in the face of Faramir's expression as Denethor went on harshly.

"I do not think we should so lightly abandon the outer defenses! Defenses that your brother long held intact," the Steward added with a sly look at his younger son. Faramir closed his eyes briefly, his face little more than a mask. A mask that Pippin, and a handful of the other guards, saw through easily.

"What would you have me do?" he asked softly. Denethor didn't even have to think before he answered; Pippin felt this highly unfair but did not have the voice or the influence to change it.

"I will not yield the river and Pelennor unfought. Osgiliath must be retaken." Pippin hid a gasp; it seemed Faramir did the same as he responded.

"My lord, Osgiliath is overrun!" Denethor did not seem to hear or care what he was saying.

"Much must be risked in war. Is there a Captain here who still has the courage to do his lord's will?" Pippin had to turn away then, knowing how this would end. To please his father, Faramir would do whatever it took, even if that meant suicide. This was proven in his next, half-whispered, statement.

"You wish now that our places had been exchanged. That I had died and Boromir had lived." Pippin winced, wishing he was big enough to comfort Faramir. But there was little he could do in the face of Lord Denethor's coldness.

"Yes. I wish that."

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Cri gasped as he jerked into wakefulness. The words… The ones that would lead to Faramir's death, hat just been spoken. Ignoring the way the world seemed to tilt around him, the young dragonling launched himself out of bed and nearly made it to the door before someone stopped him. A figure in white gripped his arm gently but firmly; a kindly voice had him stopped in his tracks.

"Where do you think you're going, lad?" Cri stopped, stumbling, and turned back. The man behind him was dressed in white robes, with a long white beard and an intricately carved white staff in his free hand. Cri tugged against the grip, having no time to explain, but the man refused to let go. "What is the rush?"

"Faramir!" he cried, still pulling. "He's going to die!"

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Gandalf stared at the boy in front of him. He could truly see the resemblance between this lad and Rianadra despite their vastly different appearances. There was some of Riana in the mulish set to the boy's chin and the complete lack of sense they made when they were worried about something or someone. He sighed.

"What is going to happen to Faramir?" he asked gently. Wild orange eyes turned to glare at him.

"I told you: he's going to die!" Gently, Gandalf pushed the boy back onto his bed, hoping to calm him just enough for him to make sense.

"How? What is going to happen?" Cri took a deep breath, or tried to, and answered in a rush,

"He's going to ride out with his men to fight again! But they're not going to come back…" His eyes went wild again and Gandalf barely managed to keep him in place. "I've got to warn him!" The dragonling thrashed against the Wizard's gentle hold; Gandalf had to think of a way to keep him here. Seconds later, he knew it.

"You, lad, need to rest. I will warn Faramir in your place. Is this acceptable?" Slowly, the boy calmed and met his eyes. "I will not let him die." Cri nodded, and the fever he had suddenly reclaimed its hold over him, a hold that had broken only for his fear and love for the young Captain of Gondor. Gandalf took the chance to study the boy more as he gently laid him back under the covers. In sleep, he was much more like his sister; they had the same nose, the same lift to their eyebrows even when completely relaxed.

How he wished she could be here. The boy would most likely survive, but he had a long, painful road ahead of him. It was not just the Ring of Power Sauron wanted so badly. There was another, something he could control, and it lay in front of the White Wizard now. The darkness spreading from Mordor would slowly consume the boy unless he could somehow resist. It had happened before, many times, in ages past.

Gandalf sighed. For now, the boy was safe, and he had a promise to fulfill, both for himself and the lad before him.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

I stood with Legolas in the Great Hall, watching the King with his men. For a man who had sworn not to ride to the aide of his fellow men, he was making far too many plans. Perhaps it was only the anger of the moment that kept him from saying "yes" to Gandalf. I let out a soft breath; Legolas glanced over at me.

"Did he not say, just a week ago, that he would never ride to the aide of Gondor?" I whispered. Legolas smirked at me and shrugged.

"He knows it is not before the walls of Edoras that the doom of this time will be decided. If he wants to fight for his people, it must be before Minas Tirith." I grumbled. Why did the Elf have to make so much sense?

I was about to ask him this out loud when the doors of the Golden Hall burst open, revealing a rather out-of-breath Aragorn.

"The beacons of Minas Tirith!" he cried, rushing through the doors before they were fully open and coming to a stumbling halt before the king. "The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aide!" All heads in the hall, including mine, much to my chagrin, turned to Théoden, waiting with bated breath for his answer. It seemed to be a long time in coming, but it was only a few seconds.

"And Rohan will answer!" he cried in a great voice. "Muster the Rohirrim!" Almost immediately, the hall burst into flurries of activity. Legolas gripped my arm and pulled me out of the way. Despite the fact that my shoulder and leg had healed quite nicely a good while ago, he still treated me like I was going to break.

"Legolas…" I grumbled at him. "I am not going to break!" He smiled down the few inches between our heights and smiled without answering. He and I listened closely to the orders of the King.

"We will assemble the army at Dunharrow. You have two days!" A great cry rose from the men. "On the third, we ride for Gondor, and war!" The Men swarmed from the city of Edoras like bees from a disturbed hive. I watched Aragorn and Legolas closely, wondering what they were planning. So far, it seemed we were going to travel with the King.

And we did. For two days, we rode across the countryside, gathering Men for the army. Finally allowed to ride my own horse, I stayed close by Legolas, who had Gimli riding behind him again. The Dwarf seemed less than impressed with the Rohirrim. "Hmph. Horsemen," I caught him muttering to Legolas once. "I wish I could muster a legion of Dwarves, fully armed and filthy!" The image was entertaining; the Elf's response; not so much.

"Your kinsmen may have no need to ride to war. I fear war already marches on their own lands." Gimli refused to comment after that.

I kept an eye on our other companions, as well. Merry rode a white pony at the head of the column, a Squire of Rohan by his king. It was good for him to have something, I thought. It took his mind of Pippin's absence. He seemed happy, oddly enough, on this ride to war. This journey had changed him; I was not certain whether it was for the better or worse yet. Perhaps both.

Aragorn stayed close by the Lady Éowyn. I was not entirely sure why she was joining the men, but I assumed it was for a similar reason as me. Neither of us wanted to be left behind; we could fight as well as the men, and we refused to be left while our loved ones fought. I had forgotten, until now, exactly how much I respected her.

The end of the second day had us entering a camp of white tents. The king greeted the commanders he had sent out into Rohan. But as the sun fell and we heard the numbers, his face grew darker and darker. He had gathered fewer Men than he had hoped for. But it was what we had.

We had only until dawn.

**again, sorry for the rush... i needed to get to more important parts than the gathering of the army... hopefully the next few chapters will be better... but in the meantime, review please! constructive criticism is always welcome!**


	38. Paths of the Dead

**haHA i'm back again, finally back on a roll! ... enough of my rambling, i think you guys will REALLY like this chapter... something several of you have been asking for for quite a while finally happens! now, go forth, my loyal readers, and discover what secrets lie in store!**

**i don't own lotr, only my original cast :)**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Thirty-Eight: Path of the Dead<p>

The more time I spent in the shadow of the mountain, the more nervous I grew. Something was… wrong… about that place, and it seemed I was not the only one to feel it. Around me, normally well-behaved horses reared, snorted, and attempted to kick at their masters. Even Arluin seemed nervous, and she was normally as well-behaved as any other horse. I sighed, running a hand through her knotted mane as Legolas spoke softly behind me, echoing my thoughts.

"The horses are restless, and the men are quiet." I could not quite tell if he was speaking to himself or someone else, but another voice answered him. I turned away from Arluin as he spoke.

"They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain." I glanced around, understanding that feeling quite clearly. This place was certainly not meant for comfort. Gimli shifted slightly next to me his attention elsewhere. I glanced down at him and followed his distant stare to a path off to the side. A Rider and his frightened horse crossed before it, making it seem almost unreal.

"That road there," I gestured to it, and Éomer shuddered slightly when he saw where I was pointing, "where does that lead?" I expected the Rider to answer, but it was Legolas who spoke next.

"It is the road to the Dimholt, the door under the mountain." That was supposed to be an explanation? I thought, trying not to roll my eyes.

"None who venture there ever return… That mountain is evil." I raised an eyebrow at that as he wandered away and settled the saddle he had been carrying down near his horse. With a silent breath, I turned back to the road, intending to study it; when I did, I felt something stir far beneath me and before me as I watched Aragorn, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, stare down the road. He seemed entranced, like something was calling him… I grew nervous and was about to pull him away when Gimli did it for me.

"Aragorn!" he called, and the Man turned away so quickly it was disconcerting. Gimli, hoping to appear unafraid, gripped his arm and added, "Let's find some food," and proceeded to drag Aragorn away from the road. I had to stifle a laugh as they passed me, Aragorn looking slightly confused, Gimli, determined. The Men around me smothered smiles or laughs at the image the two friends presented. But after a moment, it faded, and they remembered why they were there. Around me, the hopelessness was nearly palpable.

Grumbling, I turned back to my horse only to find that she had been unsaddled and groomed in the time my attention had been elsewhere. I blinked stupidly for a minute; an arm around my shoulders a second later told me what had happened, and why. I allowed the Elf to walk the both of us out of eyesight but well within earshot of the camp. Finally, he stopped and smiled down at me.

"We have had little time to spend together these past weeks," he stated by way of explanation. And it was true; I had seen him, of course, but it was mostly in passing as he went around on business for either the King or Aragorn; and Gimli had developed a habit of dragging Legolas off to play strange card games in the late evening, robbing us of that, as well. I smiled up at him.

"So you plan to make the time?" I teased as he gently forced me to sit on a boulder and took his customary place beside me. He slid one arm around my shoulders again and took one of my hands with his free one. I leaned against him, having almost forgotten how warm he was. But I had not forgotten his smell, a smell that washed over me as we sat there, looking up at the mountain over our heads and the stars hanging above it. We were quiet for a long time, simply enjoying the other's company in silence before he finally spoke again.

"Aragorn plans to leave tonight." I sat up, turning to stare blankly at him.

"Why? The battle lies in Gondor, does it not?" I asked, completely befuddled; Legolas nodded.

"It does, but there is something here that he must do." He sighed softly, his gaze drawn to the dark road hidden in the shadows. "No doubt he will wish to go alone," the Elf added after a moment. I scoffed quietly.

"That sounds like an incredibly bad idea," I grumbled. Legolas smiled, running his fingers through my hair, combing some of the less complicated knots out. I turned my head just far enough to grin at him; he grinned back, but his eyes were serious. I turned back to face the road. "You intend to go with him." He did not respond, but then, he did not have to. I knew he was going, just as well as he knew I would not be left behind; but I told him anyway, "If you intend to go, then I will go with you." Gently, he brushed fine silver strands of hair away from my face and smiled tenderly at me.

"I would not dream of making you stay. You are healed enough now that not even Aragorn would attempt to keep you away." To prove his point, he leaned in close and pressed his mouth to mine again. I had hardly forgotten the first time he had done this, and I was just as unprepared but completely happy now as that first. Under the starlight and the mountain, on the very eve of battle, I was as content as I could ever be as I kissed my Elf. He stopped for a moment, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes. I glared playfully at him.

Teasing, I asked him, "Why did you stop?" Instead of answering, he leaned in and kissed me again.

"There is much I wish to do, Rianadra. Now, more than ever," he whispered gently against my mouth. An ache grew in the pit of my belly, an ache that grew even stronger as his pale hand landed on the lacings of my shirt. I groaned softly as he moved us from the boulder to the soft grass behind it. I lay on my back there, with him leaning over me, a lover's smile on his face. "Rianadra…" he murmured in my ear, his voice dropping. "I love you." I stilled, staring up at him. His blue eyes nearly glowed in the moonlight, and I reached up to touch his face.

"I love you, too," I whispered. He captured my hand, holding it to his cheek with a tender smile.

"Will you allow me to show you?" Show me? Show me what? my mind asked, but my body ignored the questions.

My free hand went to the hem of his shirt as he undid the lacings of mine. As we undressed each other under the fading stars, I realized I had never before felt such a thing; such a powerful love was not often felt among my people. But I felt it now, both inside my heart and inside my body as my Elf, my Legolas showed me exactly how much he loved me.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Some time later, when the moon was nearly directly over our heads, Legolas and I returned to camp. He tenderly brushed my face before disappearing in the direction of our horses. I could hardly keep a giddy smile from my face as I headed off to find Gimli. It did not take me more than a few minutes.

The Dwarf was sitting stolidly outside a tent, his eyes intent on the camp. He held a pipe loosely in one hand, and he absentmindedly raised it to his mouth as I approached. I settled next to him in the shadows as we waited. We had no need to speak; both knew why the other was there. A short while later, the reason for our vigil appeared.

Aragorn moved softly but swiftly through the tents, leading his horse. Closer and closer he came, but neither Gimli nor I moved until he was almost directly in front of us. Then the Dwarf stood, addressing the Man in a friendly, patronizing way.

"Just where do you think you're off to?" Aragorn turned to him as I rose to stand beside the Dwarf.

The Man sighed, studying the two of us before answering, "Not this time. This time you two must stay." He moved as though to walk away when another voice spoke from behind him.

"Have you learned nothing of their stubbornness?" Legolas asked, appearing from behind another tent, leading Arod and Arluin. He stopped beside Aragorn and Brego, offering Arluin's reigns to me. I took them as Gimli calmly addressed Aragorn,

"Might as well accept it. We're going with you, laddie." Aragorn looked between the three of us, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"I was a fool to think I could leave unnoticed," he said softly. "And twice more to think you would stay willingly." Gimli and I nodded emphatically; I was trying desperately not to grin. Legolas just shook his head slightly, meeting my eyes for a brief instant. I went weak in the knees and felt my blood go to strange places just from that simple glance. He smirked; I tried not to glower at him. Judging from the looks I got from the others as we mounted our horses, I had not succeeded.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

We approached the Dimholt road in full view of the camp behind us. I heard some of the soldiers behind us nervously questioning the reasons for our departure.

"Where's he going?"

"What's he doing?"

One of them called Aragorn's name as another whispered, "Why does he leave on the eve of battle?" This was the last I heard of the Camp at Dunharrow. But they were no longer important.

I nudged Arluin to keep up with Arod and Brego as Aragorn led us down the road. The path we followed was barren and white as dry bone. I shuddered as a cold wind burst down the path, carrying with it the sound of dry laughter and the screams of the dead. Arluin shied slightly but did not flee. I wondered what on earth could be back here, but I assumed it was important.

Gimli answered my question a while later with one of his own, "What kind of army could linger in such a place?" Ah, I thought, so that is why we have come here. We need more men. I glanced over at the Elf as he answered,

"One that is cursed." I shivered again, leaning closer to my horse, hoping she would share some of her animal warmth with me as he went on, "Lon ago, the Men of the Mountain swore an oath to the last King of Gondor to come to his aid, to fight. But when the time came, when Gondor's need was dire, they fled, vanishing into the mountains." His voice was cold, angry. I reminded myself then never to make him angry with me… "And so Isildur cursed them, never to rest until they had fulfilled their pledge."

I heard Gimli sigh; I glanced over at him, amused to see him looking distinctly green. Apparently he was not over-fond of ghosts. I would remember this… Legolas' voice as he mused to himself drew my attention back to him.

"Who shall call them from the grey twilight? The forgotten people. The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the North shall he come. Need shall drive him. He shall pass the door to the Paths of the Dead." As he spoke, the path ended, leaving us before a doorway made of stone, adorned with skulls and strange writing above it. I shuddered as Gimli whispered behind me, "The very warmth of my blood seems stole away," as we dismounted. Nervous for a reason I could not explain, I moved to stand by Legolas. He pulled me against his side, pushing my fear aside for the time being, as he read the words above the door.

"The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the dead keep it. The way is shut!" At his words, a fierce wind once again carrying fear, death, laughter, and screams with it flew from the door; the horses reared with great cries of fear and turned away from the door, vanishing into the twilight. Aragorn called for Brego, but none of them came back. Shivering uncontrollably, I watched as he Man raised his blade and approached the door.

"I do not fear death," he told both it and his companions, and strode into the darkness. Legolas squeezed my hand and followed him without a word. Gimli and I hovered outside; I, because I truly did not wish to enter another cave ever again; Gimli for a reason I could not fully understand. He mumbled under his breath, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Refusing to be the last person inside, I forced my claustrophobia aside and entered the cave. Behind me, I heard Gimli grumble,

"An Elf and a dragonling will go underground where a Dwarf dare not… Oh, oh, I'd never hear the end of it!" And with the clattering of armor and weapons, Gimli trotted through the door to join the rest of us. Aragorn stood at the end of the tunnel, a torch held in his hand.

"Come," he said firmly, "we must go."

**heehee, so what did y'all think? tell me in a nice, long, lovely review!**


	39. Cursed Path

**heehee this is almost as awesome as the first few weeks of this story's life... :P anyway! yes, here is another chapter! so soon, it's ridiculous lol**

**DISCLAIMER: i don't own lotr or anything related to it (except for the soundtrack and a cool Legolas poster in my room) but all OC's are mine (Riana, Cri, Cearien, and now Callyn)**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Thirty-Nine: Cursed Path<p>

We followed Aragorn down the twisting paths of the dead, past piles of dry bones and skulls. I stayed very close to Legolas, almost tripping him several times as we moved. Finally, he simply grabbed my hand and held on; this helped to calm me, although it did not entirely alleviate the crushing feeling of miles of mountain above me or the creeping sensation of ghostly fingers on my arms. I shuddered, clinging tighter to the Elf's hand as he used the other to wave away wisps of ghosts.

Behind us, I heard Gimli grumbling along. Legolas paused, me with him, to wait for the Dwarf; as he caught up, he asked Legolas, "What is it?" for the Elf had started looking around as though there were familiar people or faces nearby. But no one was there.

"What do you see?" I whispered. He gently squeezed my hand and tried to smile at me.

Legolas answered both of us in a voice little more than a whisper, "I see the shapes of men and horses."

"Where?" Gimli and I gasped at the same time, looking around, the Dwarf more out of fear. His normally red face was nearly bloodless.

Instead of answering simply, he responded in something akin to a riddle, as Elves were wont to do, "Pale banners like shreds of cloud. Spears rise like winter-thickets through a shroud of mist. The Dead are following," he stated firmly, pulling me ahead to catch up with Aragorn as he added, "They have been summoned." Gimli, left behind, huffed.

"The Dead? Summoned?" He paused for a moment, then went on, "I knew that. Very good, very good… LEGOLAS!" he cried then, realizing he had been left. I heard his thundering footfalls and wondered how he had survived this long, he was so noisy. I was about to say something of that like to him when a grey figure rose in front of me; ghostly hands reached out, trying to grab, to hold back. I shuddered, my chest constricting in fear. I could hardly breathe… No, I could not breathe! I stopped, loosening my hand from Legolas, and curled up on the ground. The hands of the Dead were all over me, I could feel them. And still, I could not breathe!

"Rianadra?" His voice barely broke through the grating of my breath and the pounding of my heartbeat. A gentle, light touch on my shoulder drew me out of my fear; a real touch pushed the sensations of things unreal away. I raised my eyes and met his. He studied me for a moment then nodded. Carefully, the Elf slid an arm around my shoulders and pulled me to my feet. "We will not be here long," he told me softly. "Fear not." I chose not to grace that with a response as he hurried me to catch up with the others again. We reached them just in time to hear Aragorn warn us,

"Do not look down." Of course, as soon as he said that, I wanted to look down, to see what it was. But I assumed there was a good reason for him to warn us not to look, so I forced myself to stare straight ahead. Gimli seemed not to follow that logic, as I heard him groan softly behind me a few seconds later. Not only that, but every step he took included a cracking sound that could only be one thing.

Bones.

We were walking across a carpet of bones… Once again, my entire body trembled, and this time not even Legolas could keep the fear and disgust away. But now Aragorn was rushing us, encouraging us to run, so I had no time to dwell on these feelings. Instead, I allowed the Elf to pull me along until we entered a huge, empty space. It carried similar feelings as the reset of the place, only much, much stronger. I stepped up behind Legolas, hoping to remain unseen. Finally, Aragorn came to a stop, right before an endless staircase.

"Who enters my domain?" The voice that spoke seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. I looked around nervously, poking my head over Legolas' shoulder in time to see the shape of a man with a golden crown on his head appear before Aragorn. The Man did not seem fazed in the slightest when he answered.

"One who would have your allegiance!" The King of the Dead, for he could be no other, scoffed at him.

"The Dead do not suffer the living to pass!" Aragorn stepped forward, and I could only imagine what his expression was like.

"You _will_ suffer me!" The King laughed, a cruel, grating sound that echoed across the great, empty room. And empty room that was no longer empty… Along the walls, ghostly towers appeared, and misty grey figures streamed from them, surrounding us. Legolas kept my hand in his in a grip that could easily have bruised.

"The Way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the Dead keep it. The Way is shut!" He moved until he and Aragorn were almost nose-to-nose and added, "Now you must die." At that, Legolas released my hand, pulled an arrow from his quiver, and shot it. Were the King of the Dead alive, it would have been a perfect shot. As it were, the arrow shot through his head, rattling across the stone floor on the other side. Legolas backed up a step, pressing himself against me in the same way I was up against his back. His hand found mine again; he was shaking.

"I summon you to fulfill your oath!" Aragorn cried, his voice powerful; but it seemed the Dead were unimpressed.

"None but the King of Gondor may command me!" There was silence for a moment, then a clashing sound, like that of two blades meeting. I decided not to look, though I was curious, choosing instead to bury my face in Legolas' long blonde hair. But I listened.

"That bind was broken!"

"It has been remade!" Silence reigned for a moment, then, "Fight for us, and regain your honor. What say you?" he waited, and when there was no answer, went on, "What say you?" Gimli, from somewhere off to my right, grunted.

"You waste your time, Aragorn. They had no honor in life; they have none now in death." Aragorn ignored him.

"I am Isildur's heir. Fight for me, and I will hold your oaths fulfilled. What say you?" he yelled, growing impatient with their silence. The only response to his call was the laughter of the King as the presence of the Dead faded. "You have my word!" Aragorn almost sounded desperate now; this was not something I was accustomed to hearing from him. I peeked out from behind Legolas. "Fight, and I will release you from this living death! WHAT SAY YOU?"

Gimli's gruff voice added, "Stand, you traitors!" But it did no good. They were gone.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Never again did I want to wade through four times my dragon form's weight in human bones. Ever.

The four of us had stood in depressed silence for all of five seconds before the wall at the top of the stairs exploded, showering us with thousands upon thousands of human skulls. It had taken the combined strength of me, Aragorn, and Legolas to pull all of us through them; we now were exhausted and, in my case at least, more than a little disturbed.

I panted harshly as we emerged into muted sunlight through a door in the side of the mountain. If I never saw a human skull again, it would be far too soon, I thought with a grunt. But for now, we had far bigger problems than my sensitivity to dead things. Before us lay the river, a wide expanse of silver water glowing red in the light of fires on the opposite bank. On the river itself, a fleet of black ships sailed calmly. I shivered at the sight of them, them and the serrated blades at the fore of each ship.

We were supposed to stop these? On our own? I shook my head in despair and heard someone fall to the ground behind me. I turned back to see Aragorn on his knees, his tear-filled eyes locked onto the ships before us. Legolas had his hand on the Man's shoulder, and Aragorn was leaning against him, accepting what comfort the Elf could offer. I was about to turn back, wondering if I would have to waste precious energy changing forms and burning the thrice-blasted things into oblivion when a glimmer of grey mist caught my attention.

The door in the mountain groaned as though opening, though it did not move. Aragorn, his eyes now wide with shock, leaped to his feet and spun around, all in the same motion. Before him stood the King of the Dead, a naked sword in his dead, ghostly hand. I felt my jaw drop as he flowed forwards, his dead eyes focused on Aragorn.

"We fight!"

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Cri stood by the window in the Houses of Healing. A healer fluttered nervously at his side, but he refused to move. Despite the Wizard Gandalf's assurance that he would let no harm come to Faramir, the young dragonling knew that his friend had gone to fight. His vision would not lie, much as he wished it could.

His entire body shuddered at the memory. He had no idea who it was that had spoken to his feverish mind, but he knew it could be nothing good. Shaking his head to scare off the memories of that Evil, Cri focused on the single horse that was rushing back across the fields. Even with his greater eyesight, Cri could not see if it had a rider or not. Desperately he wished it did; at the same time, he hoped not. The chances of any of that company surviving were slim to none. He did not want to be given the chance to hope only to have it killed in the worst possible way.

Below him in the city, he heard Men calling for the gates to be opened. He turned to the healer. "I need to be down there." The woman shook her head, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"No, you do not, lad. Faramir wanted you to stay here, rest, and heal." Cri shook the hand off with an angry huff.

"He is hurt, maybe dying! I will not stay here and let him die without at least seeing him once more!" He tried to head for the door, but the healer stopped him; he growled, wishing he had his strength back. If he did, he could simply fly out across the city and stay at his friend's side until Faramir ordered him away. But, as it was, he barely had the strength to stay upright without help. And the healer knew that, curse it!

"If there is any chance of saving him, lad, he will be brought here. When he is, and I am certain he will be, not one of us will try and separate you." Cri sighed, feeling tears prick at his eyes. Angry at his own weakness, he wiped them away with the back of his hand, refusing to look at the healer and see the pity in her eyes. She was having none of that, however, and turned his face to hers. "Tears for your friends are not a weakness lad," she said softly, pulling him back towards what had been designated as "Cri's room". "Now, come, you still need to rest." Sighing, Cri allowed himself to be sent back into a healing sleep, reassured that Faramir would be all right.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Pippin rushed out of the Great Hall behind Denethor as soldiers bore a litter into the courtyard. Lord Denethor cried his son's name as the Men set the litter on the ground. "Faramir!" He stopped next to the litter, a broken man. "Say not that he has fallen." The blonde man who had led the soldiers to the courtyard stepped up next to his lord.

"They were outnumbered. None survived." Denethor collapsed next to his son, weeping.

"My sons are spent…" Pippin edged closer, a spark of hope still in his chest, as Denethor stumbled away. "My line has ended!" Kneeling next to his friend, Pippin stared at Faramir; because of this, he noticed something Denethor seemed to have missed: the Man was alive!

"He's alive!" the Halfling whispered to himself as Denethor continued to wail in the background. "He needs medicine, my lord!"

"My line has ended!" Pippin nearly groaned aloud. The fool was going to lose his son for good if he kept this up.

"My lord, Faramir lives!" The blonde man pushed him aside, anger in his eyes.

"Do not burden a broken heart with hope! Faramir is gone." Pippin stared at him in disbelief.

"Look at him, then. See, he breathes!" The anger flared then into rage and the Man shoved Pippin back.

"You lie." Pippin had a nice retort all prepared to be thrown into this fool's face when Denethor's voice interrupted them.

"Abandon your posts!" Confused, Pippin moved to rise but was shoved back by the other. They glared at each other yet again as the Steward cried in a great voice, "Flee! Flee for your lives!" followed by a series of pops and grunts. The Halfling looked around the Man to see Gandalf standing over an unconscious Denethor, fury in every line of clothing. His staff sparked with power, reflecting its bearer's anger.

"Prepare for battle!"

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	40. To Battle!

**hehe and yet another chapter is here! *holds up applause sign* anyway i'm not going to bother with a long author's note, so i'll just give you the disclaimer and then the story!**

**i don't own lotr or anything other than a poster and the soundtrack... Riana, Cri, Cearien, and Callyn do, however belong to me, so NO STEALING please and thank you**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Forty: To Battle<p>

I stood silently with my three companions on the shore of the river, staring out across the calm waters. The Black Ships were nearly upon us; if I thought they were frightening from a distance, they were far, far worse up close. It was all I could do not to visibly shiver and reveal precisely how afraid I truly was.

Next to me, Legolas stood, tall and proud, his blue eyes focused on the ships as they inched closer upstream. He spun an arrow in his fingers almost absentmindedly; his other hand gripped his bow so tightly his knuckles were even paler than his normal color. Every once in a while, he would glance at me or our other companions; other than that and the slowly rotating arrow, he could easily have been a statue standing guard over the shore. Beyond him, Gimli fidgeted, the weight of his ax shifting from hand to hand. He was itching for a fight or was frightened out of his mind and had no other way to show it.

On my other side, slightly closer to the water's edge than the rest of us, stood Aragorn. Something in him had changed at the King of the Dead's declaration. He was different, but still the same. It was as though the mask he had wrought for himself had finally cracked and fallen away, revealing the true nature of Aragorn, son of Arathorn. No longer was he a Ranger from the North. As he stood on the riverbank, I could see the King in him. I could see the powerful leader he would soon be.

But for now, we had the Black Ships to deal with. They were nearly directly across from us, and still they had not seen us. That would change. Aragorn shifted his weight slightly forward, and I could picture the fierce light in his eyes as he glared at the ships and spoke,

"You may go no further!" Some of the Men on board the ship nearest us moved to the edges; I heard echoes of laughter from another. Aragorn ignored them. "You will not enter Gondor." At this, the Captains laughed outright.

"Who are you to deny us passage?" one of them called derisively. Aragorn ignored him; he turned to Legolas and muttered,

"Legolas, fire a warning shot by the _bosun_'s ear." The Elf put the arrow he'd been playing with to his bowstring and pulled back. I heard Gimli whisper something about Legolas' aim, and then the Elf fired. The arrow, however, did not go past the Corsair's ear; rather, it struck him in the chest, killing him. Gimli made a sarcastic sound before calling in a loud, gravelly tone,

"That's it. We warned you! Prepare to be boarded!" All the Corsairs left alive laughed at him as the ships moved past the four of us. Another captain called to Gimli through gales of laughter,

"Boarded, by you and whose army?" No longer frightened, I grinned a wolf's grin as power rushed through my blood. Before me, Aragorn answered the Captain's question.

"This army." And then, in a foul wind, the Dead rushed past us, over the river, and onto the ships. My hair blew over my face as the Dead rushed past me, heading straight for the Black Ships. The Corsairs screamed in terror as the Dead slaughtered them, leaving none alive to attack Gondor. I stood silently, my white-fingered grip on the hilt of my sword the only thing showing my dislike of the whole thing, watching as Men died and vanished from sight until none remained to challenge us.

The King of the Dead returned to stand before Aragorn; were he living, his face would be flushed and his eyes bright with the excitement of battle. Dead as he was, only a skeletal grin showed. I shuddered as his grating voice sounded, "Lead on, Heir of Elendil. We will follow you to battle!" With that, he vanished as quickly as he usually appeared, his kin following until it was just me and the others left standing on the beach, the Black Ships sailing themselves past us. Aragorn turned to us, a grim smile on his face that did not quite reach his eyes.

"It is as the King of the Dead says. We go to battle!" Legolas and Gimli nodded; I shrugged. The Elf raised an eyebrow at me in askance as the other two stared at me as I stepped away a little. I grinned at Legolas and could have laughed aloud at the sudden understanding in his eyes. He knew what I was about to do. Aragorn seemed to have some inkling, but Gimli just looked completely befuddled. I turned my back on them, facing the river and the Ships.

"I will fly ahead." I looked back over my shoulder; Aragorn was gawking at me.

"It is nearly a day's sail from here!" I smirked.

"A day's sail, but only a few hours' as a dragon flies." His face went white, as did Gimli's. Legolas was trying to hide a knowing smile and failing dismally. He and I shared a long look, and then he nodded at me.

"Go. We shall meet on the field of battle." I returned his nod and allowed the Power that had been trickling through my veins since the Dead appeared flood my entire body. Heat burst through my blood as flames swirled across my vision. Aragorn and Gimli shouted behind me, but I ignored them. My body was changing, growing, as my Power followed suit. Seconds later, I stood before them in the shape of my parents.

I looked back at them, my lips curled back in a fierce parody of a smile then turned my head to the sky and let out a bellow and a stream of fire in a savage declaration of war.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

_Once again, Cri stood at the brink of a steep precipice. He was fairly certain he was dreaming, but it was hard to tell. Before him, all of Middle Earth lay, a shining jewel in the sun. As the young dragonling watched, though, darkness spread from the East, slowly but surely covering the beauty of his homeland. Fear grew in his belly, spreading to the rest of his body as the Shadow moved._

_ He knew what this was: the Evil Riana had warned him of all those months ago. An Evil that had thought and feeling. And Knowing. He could feel it, feel it searching for something. At first, he wondered what it could be. Then it sensed him and all wondering fled his mind._

"You cannot hide. Not from me. I know you, I see you."_ It was the same voice as before, but for some reason, Cri did not feel the same pain and fear as the first time he had heard it. Its time was ending._

"You cannot escape me. I will find you. Your power is mine, and mine is yours." _ Cri growled, searching deep inside himself for the dam that held his Power in check. As the Voice continued to repeat the same thing over and over, Cri searched and searched until he finally found it. Carefully, secretly, he loosened it, just enough that he could feel his Power straining against it. Soon, and of its own free will, the dam would break, and his Power would be free. The dragonling lad stood tall and proud, as his many ancestors had as they faced this same Evil._

_ But Cri of the Deep Woods was not like those before him. He was young, too young for his Power to have turned to Darkness. He still had hope, that burning hope that only a child could hold in their hearts. He raised orange eyes to meet that of flames before him._

_ "You may know me," he said softly, but in no way did he sound weak. "But you do not control me!" The dam broke then, and he felt for only a second time the Power of his kind filling his veins. "We, the Free People, will fight you, Dark One, and we will defeat you!"_

_ With that cry, he released it from his control and screamed both in pain and exhilaration as his body twisted and changed._

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

The healer stared at the boy in her charge. He was whispering in his sleep and shifting restlessly. Something about him was different. Not different in looks- he _looked_ completely normal- but in feeling. He no longer felt like a helpless lad who needed looking after.

Then his eyes opened.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Cri was wide awake now, his Power singing in his veins. He had never felt this… alive… before. Slowly, he stood, touching the place where the wounds he was being treated for had been, and found what he expected. Somehow, they had healed. The dragonling raised orange eyes to the old Healer standing over his bed; she bowed her head.

"Do what you must. It seems I could not stop you even if I so desired." Cri nodded, moving towards the door as though in a dream. His body felt both light and heavy at the same time; his sight both clearer and more blurred. Before he knew it, he was standing outside the Houses of Healing on the very edge of the City.

With a deep sigh of relief, Cri allowed his wings and tail free of the spells that kept them hidden; their weight settled behind him silently. Bright orange eyes stared out at the scene before him: a great host attacked the City of Kings, moving forward as relentlessly as the tide. The Men in the city would not long withstand them; even less would they withstand the attack that came from the air in the form of Ringwraiths and their Fell Beasts.

Cri snarled, his tail twitching behind him. Carefully, he leaned forward, his wings spreading behind him. He was about to leap into the air when a call from behind him completely derailed his desire to fight.

"Faramir!"

Cri whirled around, fear growing in his heart as his Power slid away, locked once again behind the dam deep within him. At least now, he knew how to free it again. But right now, he was much more concerned with his friend's health than the battle raging outside. Eventually, he would go out there to fight, but for now, Faramir needed him.

And he was not leaving his human friend's side again.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o (**several miles to the North, heading for Minas Tirith**)

I flew steadily, having left my companions to the Ships. Some stirring in my heart called me to Minas Tirith. I had to be there, had to fly there as quickly as my wings and the winds could carry me. And it seemed the winds were in my favor tonight, as I soared over lands in minutes that would take my friends hours to sail through. I shoved the thought of them out of my mind. I had greater concerns, and I knew they could defend themselves should the need arise. The Dead were with them, after all. Nothing could defeat that which was already Dead.

My wings beat irregularly, pushing me to even greater speed. The River appeared briefly then disappeared beneath me. Soon, I could see rolling hills first, and then mountains far under my belly. Finally, as the sun set in the West, I arrived in Minas Tirith.

I could make out the miles and miles of Orc army before the gates of the White City as Aragorn liked to call it. The lower levels of the city were on fire, and the gate was broken. I shivered, shifting my wings, rolling the tension and exhaustion out of them. Soon enough, I was prepared to fight. From the mountainside I came, wings spread, mouth wide open in a roar of challenge. Screams of challenge echoed from the army below me, and I laughed, spewing flame and roasting them where they stood. They could not stand up to me.

But it appeared there was something else that could, however. I heard a screech, similar to my own, from the city and saw black shapes swooping down towards me. I called back to them, unafraid despite the strangeness of their cries.

And then we met in the sky, claws and teeth meeting, and blood flowed like water.

**hehehehee cliffhanger! i am so evil... REVIEW PLEASE and i might end your torment sooner :P**


	41. Above the Fields of Pelennor

**hehe this chapter is sure to give y'all shivers... THE GOOD KIND :D anyway... yeah, as usual, i don't own, but all oc's are mine :P**

**GO FORTH, MY LOVELY READERS, AND READ!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Forty-One: Above the Fields of Pelennor<p>

Screams echoed across the fields of Pelennor as battle reigned outside. But in the upper levels of the City of Kings, none of it mattered. All that mattered was the still form of the Steward's son as he lay feverish under mounds of blankets and the small boy who huddled next to him, orange eyes bright with fear. The lad's small hand gripped his friend's tightly; his eyes never left the Man's face.

Cri shook with both fear and cold. He had never seen Faramir so pale, so weak. Even worse was what lay beneath the pallor of sickness: his face was flushed with a high fever that seemed to be burning him from the inside out. The young dragonling sat there, the arm and hand not being used to cling to Faramir- as though his touch alone could keep the Man alive- were wrapped around his still-too-small body. The room he was in, though kept warm for the Captain, seemed ice cold to Cri.

The silence around him seemed solid. Although, if he stretched his hearing, Cri could hear what was happening out in the fields beyond the City walls. But, here with his friend laying so close to death, the battle may as well be across the mountains in Rohan. Every once in a while, a healer in white would come in and check on Faramir; they never spoke to Cri, only smiled gently at him as they went about their business. Once, a young girl, not much older than Cri appeared, came in with a blanket; she left it next to the lad and vanished.

He did not notice her come in, nor did he notice when she left. He only noticed the scant rising and falling of Faramir's chest as he breathed and how his face never changed. The world could end outside his window, and he would not notice or care. But slowly, his own illness and exhaustion, which had faded for a time, came back. His eyes closed of their own free will, and eventually he could fight them no longer. Leaning against Faramir's side, Cri gave up the fight against sleep and allowed himself to fade into the welcoming dark.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

_Cri knew he was dreaming. There was no other explanation for why he was standing on a mountaintop in the springtime with Faramir and his sister standing by his side. But there they were, Riana smiling at him in a way he hadn't seen for one hundred years. Beyond her, Faramir stood with a woman with long golden hair holding his arm. Cri smiled. The Captain of Gondor deserved some happiness._

_ Riana reached out to him, a loving look in her eyes. Feeling a smile pulling at the corners of his own mouth, Cri took her outstretched hand and stepped up next to her; together the siblings stared out across the world. Silence reigned for some time before Riana finally spoke._

_ "War rages outside." Cri turned to her, surprised. How could there be war here? Everything was peaceful. He said so, and she smiled sadly at him._

_ "This is only in your mind, little brother. Outside, we are all at war. Our hope fades with each passing minute…" she trailed off, purple eyes distant. Finally, she went on, "Your Captain," she gestured to Faramir, who as of yet had not turned to the siblings, "fights for his life as do thousands. Something must be done, brother."_

_ "But what can be done?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. She squeezed his hand and answered,_

_ "We must but hold on until the Rightful King returns." Cri stared at her blankly; she smiled. "I have met him, Cri, and he is… He is a true King. There is no better way to describe him." She sighed as her silver hair fell over her eyes. "But for now, you and I are the only ones with the power to do anything. And we must help, Cri! We must not let the City of Kings fail now, not after she has stood so proud so long!"_

_ The younger of the two stared at his sister, amazed. Never before had she spoken so; it was odd, but appealing, to see her this way. It was as if all the fears and the pain she had carried for a century had fallen away in the face of a true battle. Cri smiled and clung to her hand._

_ "But what can _we_ do? I only just found my Powers." She looked relieved to hear that._

_ "And about time, too, little brother! I was wondering if you even had them for a while… But you do!" She laughed and hugged him around the shoulders. "Your powers are greater than mine, Cri," she went on, sobering suddenly. "It is why the Orcs took you and not me. I can only attack and annihilate. You, baby brother, you are different!" She released his hand and threw her arms to the sky. _

"_You are among the greatest of our kind! You can heal, you can destroy. You are desired by both sides, as were many in our past. But, unlike those before you, your powers have not turned to Shadow. You are still pure, still a child in so many ways." Riana turned back to him, her hands falling on his shoulders. "I have known this since the very day you were born, little brother. I knew you were special, important. And you are."_

_ Riana pushed his shoulders until he was facing Faramir and the golden-haired woman he was with. The two were now facing each other, bright and honest smiles on their faces. Riana stood behind Cri as he watched them, a golden glow in his chest. However, that glow faded a little at his sister's next words, "If nothing is done, Cri, these two will never meet. She will perish in battle; he, in the Houses of Healing where he now lies."_

_ "But if something were done?" He thought back on what she had said before. "If I did something?" She laughed again, freely and without fear._

_ "He will be healed!" Cri stared at her, dumbfounded._

_ "Me? What do I have to do? Riana, I can't heal!" She whacked him upside the head._

_ "Say that and it will be. Say you can and that will be." She sighed. "Like I said before, Cri, I cannot heal. That is not what my Power is for. If you wish to save him and allow what is meant to happen to happen, you must only look inside yourself and do so." She turned back to the mountains, her hands falling from his shoulders as her wings settled behind her._

_ "I must go now, little brother. But promise me one thing."_

_ "Anything, sister."_

_ "Once you have healed him, join me in battle above the fields of Pelennor!"_

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Cri jerked awake with a gasp. Before him, Faramir lay much as he had before. Now, though, his face was much whiter, his breathing slower. The young dragonling did not even stop to thing; with his dream still fresh in his mind, he gripped Faramir's hand again and bowed his head over him. With a whispered prayer to the Valar for guidance, he unleashed his Power once again.

Heat flowed through his veins once more, but now it was the quiet, gentle heat one felt when sitting before a fire with a loved one next to them. He allowed it to fill him until he felt he were going to burst then let it flow from his body into Faramir's. As soon as his Power hit the other's blood, Cri felt his awareness shift. No longer was he in his own body, looking at Faramir; now, he _was_ the Power coursing through the other's bloodstream.

He could see the poison as it travelled closer and closer to Faramir's heart, leaving everything withered and broken behind it. Cri growled. It could not be allowed to reach its destination. With grim determination, he allowed himself to be swept off pushing closer and closer to the poison that was killing his friend.

It did not take him long to reach it. After all, it was only moving as fast as the Man's blood; Cri moved with determination and purpose. Once he reached where the poison was, Cri separated from his power, watching in abstract fascination as it literally burned it away. It was disconcerting, how quickly the healing went. It only felt like minutes before he was back in his body, feeling like a sledge had run him over.

The young dragonling shook his head once to clear it and looked around. The room was filled with a golden light that had not been there when he started. Slowly, hoping to keep his head on his shoulders, Cri turned to his other side and nearly headbutted the healer who was bending over him, worry in her eyes.

"Thank the Valar, you do live!" Extremely confused, Cri tried to ask her what on Arda she meant, but his voice refused to work. Immediately, she straightened and poured him a cool glass of water from a pitcher close at hand. He drank greedily, and after a few more cupfuls, he was able to speak understandable Common again.

"Why did you think I was dead?" he asked, tilting his head to one side. She stared at him.

"You were laying there, not moving, hardly breathing, lad! For _hours_!" He stared at her then remembered the sunlight pouring in through the window. It had been night when he began. Cri was about to ask another question when the promise he had made to Riana in the dream.

"I have to go!" he cried, going from laying flat on his back to standing in less than a second. The healer stared at him like he had gone mad. "My sister needs me!" Ignoring her befuddled stare, he rushed out the door, not noticing Faramir's open eyes and slight smile.

Once back on the same balcony he had stood before, Cri called his Power to him. It sang through his blood, changing him as it went. Soon after, he leaped from the wall, his body still changing. He hit the skies with a roar seconds later, reveling in a form he had never thought he could take.

He took to the skies, a dragon soaring to battle, a song of death singing through is very veins.

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	42. Victory for Now

**heehee... this one is awesome :D **

**i don't own lotr or anything other than music and a poster of our favorite sexy-as-hell Elf XD Rianadra, Cri, Cearien, and Callyn are mine**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Forty-Two: Victory… For Now<p>

I fought the black dragon all through the night. Hours passed, and the silver moon marched steadily across the sky; still, the beast and I fought. We both were injured and bleeding steadily. But we also knew we could not back away to lick our wounds. If either of us gained the upper hand, the other was doomed.

It was odd to finally find an opponent powerful enough to actually give me a challenge. Until now, there had been very little- if any- challenge in my battles. Orcs were frightened of fire, and they were clumsy and unskilled. This creature did not fear my fire; it was also more than obvious that it knew how to fight, had been trained. I never had been. I fought by instinct. And so far it had served me well, but it was painfully obvious now that I could not hold the Fell Beast off forever. Blood loss was making even my dragon's mind spin slightly. The only thing that made it bearable was it seemed the creature before me was having the same issues.

He and I battled all through the black night. Neither of us had left victorious even as the sun rose and the moon faded behind the horizon. By this time, we were exhausted, more than ready for our fight to end. For a time, it seemed he and I were going to kill each other.

But then, the trump card played itself.

As the sun rose to the East and the moon set in the West and as six thousand Eorlingas appeared above the city, a screech echoed from behind me. I disengaged from the black beast and fell a bit below him, spinning briefly head over heels to see what was behind me. I could not have been more surprised at what I saw. Or more accurately, who I saw.

Rising from the fifth level of the City of Kings came a dark orange dragon, flame spewing from his mouth. I dropped, my wings giving out much as my knees would have were I in my human form. I managed to catch myself and roll out of the way as the Beast chose that moment to dive down at me. I barely moved out of the way in time, launching a burst of flame at him as he ended up below me. Ignoring him now, I rose higher above the battle below, watching the orange dragon as he grew closer.

I could hardly believe it. I had waited for so many years for Cri to discover his Power, or to at least find where it lay hidden. And now, at last, he had found it. I let out a loud bellow; he responded with a trumpet-like sound as he rushed to join me. Finally, we could fight as we should have when he was taken from me: as one.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Now that he and I were together, we made quick work of the Fell Beast before us. Against one dragon, it had strength enough to challenge; against two, it stood no chance. Soon enough, it turned tail and ran for the black mountains in the distance. Cri looked ready to give chase, but I called him back. As he came closer again, I was actually able to allow myself a moment to realize one very important fact:

He was back. The one thing that had sent me on this long, painful journey was back. I screamed my joy to the skies and shot straight upwards. Below me, I heard him do the same and felt it as he followed me high enough in the sky that nothing could, or would, dare challenge us. I was about to dive at him, to touch him and see if he was truly there, when a change in the battle below me caught my attention.

Théoden's army had arrived sometime during my fight with the Fell Beast, and it seemed they would make short work of the armies of Mordor. But now, it was apparent that the Dark Lord had made plans for this.

Large creatures that I had never seen before moved in, with spiked chains between their tusks and huge towers on their backs. My brother seemed more familiar with them, but he gave me no chance to ask him. He dove downwards, screaming in rage. I felt my eye ridges rise a little: never before had I seen him behave this way. He had grown up… A strange sadness welled up in me as I watched him engage in battle yet again.

He wasn't a child anymore.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Legolas stood, his head just barely hidden by the side of the ship, staring out across the river. He could see only a little of the battle, but it was all he needed to see. Two dragons whirled above the city, one dark silver-purple, the other a burnt orange that glowed in the sunlight. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched them. The smaller one could be none other than Riana's little brother, Cri. It seemed they had found each other at last.

Behind him, the Elf heard his companions talking. Soon, they would be at the docks; their trap would then be sprung. Blue eyes scanned the ship as a cold draft brushed his face; one of the Dead had most likely just walked through him. He sighed, scarcely able to wait until he was off this blasted ship and away from the Dead. They frightened him not, but that did not mean he was entirely comfortable with the odd ghostly soldier passing through him. It was certainly not something he would ever like to repeat.

Slowly, the docks came into view, and with them came the sight of hundreds Orcs standing on the bank. Legolas shuddered. He hated Orcs. Hated them, and the Black Speech they spoke, and the Dark Lord they so willingly served.

Shaking himself free of those thoughts, Legolas pulled an arrow from his quiver and spun it lazily in his fingers, his eyes never leaving the bank. As the ships pulled up, he ducked lower, just in case a little of his head had been showing over the edge. The ships had to appear empty.

Soon, they reached the docks and a harsh voice spoke from the shore, "Late as usual! Pirate scum!" Legolas sensed Aragorn and Gimli step up beside him, their heads still out of sight. The Elf shared a fierce grin with his human friend as the Orc went on, "There's knife-work that needs doing!" Still they did not move, Gimli seeming to have a hard time not laughing. As they stayed silent and out of sight, another called from the shore,

"Come on, ya sea-rats! Get off your ships!" Aragorn met the eyes of his companions and nodded once. Immediately, the three of them leaped over the edge of the ship, landing hard on the edge of the dock. Before them, the Orcs milled around aimlessly, some laughing at the sight. Legolas kept himself from smirking somehow as he and his friends moved forwards, closer to battle.

Gimli, itching for a fight, spoke softly to his Elven friend, "There's plenty for the both of us; may the best Dwarf win!" Legolas rolled his eyes. The Dwarf may have beaten him at Helm's Deep, but not this time! He placed the arrow in his hand on the string of his bow, pulling it back as he moved. A cold wind came up behind him, and he knew the Dead were there. With a snarl, he released his arrow, and the green-grey ghosts of the Dead overran them.

Legolas could barely pay attention to his surroundings as the battle began in earnest. Around him, Orcs fell either to Aragorn's blade or Gimli's battle ax. Before him, more fell to his arrows as he fired one after the other. Off to one side, he heard Gimli counting.

"… twenty-nine…"

The Elf sighed irritably. That damnable Dwarf would not win their game a second time! He shot another series of arrows and counted off each one, "Seventeen, eighteen… Nineteen." He grinned, noticing that Gimli had stopped counting for a little while. He had a chance to catch up! And catch up he did! Soon, he was up to thirty, about to move on when Aragorn called his name.

"Behind you!" The Elf turned around to see an Oliphant racing towards him. He smirked to himself. This would be perfect, if he could pull it off. As the great animal passed him, he dodged arrows from the Men riding it and climbed up its hind leg.

"Thirty-three… thirty-four…" he counted as he climbed. Once he reached the top, he slipped down its side, cutting the saddle from its back; the Dead swarmed over it when it hit the ground. He ignored it, and the screams of the dying as he raced towards the Oliphant's head. Once there, he drew two arrows back, aimed for the back of the thing's head, and fired. Both arrows hit right where he'd wanted them to, and the great creature let out something resembling a roar of pain as it fell. Legolas stepped to the top of its head as it fell, using its forward momentum to sling him forward. As it smashed into the ground, he slid down and off its trunk, landing directly in front of highly disgruntled Dwarf.

He smirked as Gimli snapped at him, "That _still_ only counts as one!" The Elf could have burst out laughing at that but forced himself not to. Gimli would not thank him much for that.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

The battle ended soon after that, the Dead mopping up what was left. Legolas stood with Gimli and Aragorn, Gandalf and Pippin coming to stand close by as the Dead gathered before them. In the sky, he saw Rianadra and her brother hovering; a smile tugged at his mouth as Aragorn addressed the King of the Dead and Gimli addressed the Man.

"Release us," the King of the Dead stated, eyes glued to the Heir of Elendil. Gimli grumbled from behind him,

"Bad idea. Very handy in a tight spot, despite the fact they're dead." The King glared at him; Aragorn ignored him as usual.

"I hold your oath fulfilled. Go, be at peace." The King of the Dead stood straight and tall, a smile on his face as a wind blew through him and the army behind him. They slowly vanished in the breeze and into oblivion.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Above the City of Kings, Cri and I circled, drawing ever closer to the earth below us. I could hardly keep my eyes off him. He had changed so much in only the space of a few months; I feared very little of the innocence he had had before remained. I wanted my brother to stay a child for a little while longer. He had no reason to take up the mantle of his own greatness yet.

Finally, he and I reached the ground; I closed my eyes, shoving my Power back into the corner of my mind where it normally resided. I felt Cri do the same thing beside me. Finally, for the first time in far too many months, I turned to see my little brother beside me. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then I held my arms out to him.

Cri's face split into a huge grin, tears filled his eyes, and he launched himself into my arms with a glad cry. His arms wrapped around my neck, his face buried in the side of my neck. I gripped him, one arm around his waist, the other pressing his head to me. Tears poured down my cheeks of their own free will. In my arms, I felt Cri shuddering under the force of his own sobs. Slowly, at the same time, he and I sank to our knees, our grip never loosening.

"Cri…" I whispered, feeling his tears soaking my tunic. "Oh, Valar, little brother, have I missed you!" He tightened his death grip around my neck. Despite the fact I could hardly breathe, I could not bear to tell him to loosen his grip. He whispered my name over and over, as though he could hardly believe I was there. I had to admit I could hardly believe he was there in my arms.

"Riana… Riana!" I gently ran my hand through his messy hair. Oddly enough, the first thing I noticed was it was longer, darker, and far messier than it had ever been. I pushed him back just enough so I could look him in the eyes.

"Cri… Dear brother, have you been taking care of yourself?" He smiled sheepishly at me.

"Honestly, sister… Not really." I smiled at him; seconds later, we were laughing. He leaned back against my shoulder, his arms still around my neck. I rested my chin on his head, still laughing, and looked around the battlefield.

The death toll was going to be high; that much was obvious to me. We had lost many good fighters, and no doubt would lose more. This was not our last battle…

A voice startled me out of my own depressed thoughts. "Rianadra!" I turned, and Cri poked his head over my shoulder with curious eyes. I smiled broadly at Legolas. "I see you have been reunited at last, Rianadra." I stood, keeping on arm around Cri's shoulders; my brother stood with me, squeezing between my arm and my side.

"Who's he, Riana?" I looked down at him, meeting his wary but curious orange eyes. I squeezed his shoulders, grinning.

"He is my _nechoam_." Cri blushed a dark beet red and I burst out laughing again. Legolas looked me oddly.

"I do not believe I know that word, Rianadra. Perhaps you will…" He waited, but I could not stop laughing long enough to answer him. Cri still redder than a ripe tomato, chose to answer,

"The best way to describe it is 'mate'." Legolas looked slightly green for a second before his face went even redder than Cri's, if that were possible. I nearly fell over from laughter.

"You… two… look like… tomatoes!"

**HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA they look like TOMAAAAAAAAAAAAATOES! sorry, Riana amused me there... heeheheheheehe.. REVIEW PLEASE! *giggles uncontrollably***


	43. The Council's Decision

**well, i'm back again, after a fairly long break... again, i apologize for how long it took me to get this out... i blame poetry, and school, and friends, and other crap... and getting a cold :) but, here it is!**

**As usual, i don't own any original characters, they belong to Tolkien! riana, cearien, cri, and callyn are mine!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Forty-Three: The Council's Decision<p>

Those first few days after the Battle of Pelennor, as the Men had begun to call it, went by in a blur for me. I spent most of my time with my little brother in the Houses of Healing- apparently the silly child had overextended himself in the battle. Cri slept for almost three days straight, and after that, the healers refused to let him out of bed for another three days. He was restless, always looking at his window across the room, looking like I'm sure I did most of the time.

He wanted to fly. I could see it written all over his face, but I thought there was more to it than just the addictive quality of the skies. Every once in a while, I would catch him looking across the hall when his door was open. After about the fifth or sixth time this happened on the third day of his bed-ridden captivity, I asked him what was bothering him.

"Cri?" I asked softly form where I stood by the window. He grunted at me, not turning his head away from the door. I sighed and moved to sit next to him on the bed; Cri reluctantly turned to look at me. "What is over there that you keep staring at?" I half expected him to say he had met a girl while here, and she had been injured in the battle. Thus, his actual answer surprised me.

"A Man." My entire body twitched in surprise; he chuckled at me.

"A Man?" I echoed, my voice distant. He nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

"Yes. His name is Faramir, and he helped me when I was lost…" Cri still hadn't told me what had happened after he disappeared, and half of me felt betrayed. The other half of me, the kinder, more understanding half, knew it had to be something he didn't want me to know. That half was currently winning over the more unfriendly parts of me. Most likely, this Faramir knew, and I wanted to meet him.

"If the healers agree to let you walk, will you introduce me to him?" Cri smiled, the first true smile I had seen on his face since that first day, and nodded enthusiastically.

"I think you'll like him, Riana. He is… very much like you." Confused, I turned to stare at my little brother, but with the obstinacy that comes from being a younger sibling, he refused to tell me any more. We were glaring at each other, both trying our hardest not to laugh, when Aragorn entered the room, carrying a tray with food on it. He stopped in the doorway, one eyebrow raised; Cri and I lost any control we had had as both of us burst out laughing. Shaking his head amusedly, Aragorn placed the tray on the windowsill, saying,

"I am not even going to bother asking. No doubt I would not understand your reasons." This, of course, simply had me and Cri laughing even harder; I almost rolled off the bed, I was laughing so hard. I would have had Aragorn not suddenly appeared at my side and shoved me back the other way, a look on his face that said he was trying not to laugh himself although he had no idea what was so funny.

After a time, Cri and I finally got our laughter under control and our breath back, and Aragorn still had that look on his face. He waited a few minutes, most likely to make sure we were finished, before speaking again.

"Cri." My brother looked at him, his eyes shining. He looked much like the Hobbits did at times, with his slightly curling dark brown hair and big puppy-dog eyes. I patted his head and he spoiled the effect by turning to glower at me; I smirked at him before turning back to Aragorn.

"Are you going to let him walk now? He's been stuck here long enough and he has something he owes me," I grumbled at the Man who apparently was a King. Aragorn chuckled softly before answering me.

"I see no reason why not, as long as he is careful. I do think you should stay in the Houses for a little while longer, Cri, since you have not yet regained your full strength." He turned to me, looking like he wanted to say the same to me- I had received some fairly serious wounds in the battle that I hadn't noticed until later- but restrained himself under the glare I gave him. A soft laugh from the door had me leaning to the side; Aragorn moved out of my way.

"Aragorn, one would think you would have learned not to keep one of their kind locked away like this, even if they are injured," Legolas commented from the door. I smiled and went to hug him. He had been off doing Elf-ly things with Aragorn, most likely seeing how much repair work would be necessary after the battle, overseeing the funeral pyres of both our people and the enemy, among other things. He had willingly given me almost a week alone with my brother; I was glad of it, but I had also missed his company.

Secretly, I glanced down at my stomach. Part of me suspected that our time together had created something we were not entire ready for, but most of me though I was just being paranoid. Either way, I was glad of that time we had had, and I hoped we could have it again soon. However, we had a war to win before it could happen again. Cri smirked at me from the bed, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

One would think that a little brother would be more respectful of an older sibling with a mate… or perhaps I was overestimating his maturity. Maybe some of the child he had been before had survived his journey. I leaned against Legolas, feeling his chuckle through his body even as I heard it. He slipped one arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him as he addressed Aragorn.

"Gandalf is calling for a council tomorrow. He wants as many of the Fellowship as can be brought present as possible." As Aragorn nodded, Legolas turned to me, "I would think you should be there as well, Rianadra." I sighed, having figured as much when he had said "council". But at the same time, I thought there was more to it that the Wizard simply desiring my presence at a war council. I had a bad feeling about it; but I could not deny him.

"I will be there." Legolas nodded, kissed my forehead, and left after he whispered, "I love you," in my ear. I tried my best not to let out a frighteningly feminine giggle as Aragorn followed the Elf out the door. A gagging sound from the bed saved me from an embarrassing display of girlishness. I turned to glare at Cri as he clambered clumsily out of bed. I refused to help him- he could get himself out of bed, and besides, he had made fun of me and Legolas.

Finally, he was out of bed, with his boots on, and headed across the hall with an air of importance. I almost laughed, but I guessed it would have hurt whatever manly pride he had gained since he had been taken from me. I stood behind him a little ways as he knocked on the door, and waited in the doorway as Cri went in. Standing in the window, the afternoon light giving him a bit of a halo, was a Man. He wore the grey robes that all patients wore in the Houses, and his feet were bare. He turned at the sound of the door opening, and smiled broadly at the sight of Cri and me.

"Cri, lad, it is good to see you well!" He held his arms out, and Cri went to hug him; I thought I saw tears in my brother's eyes, but decided not to comment. After all, our rule of not crying didn't seem to exist anymore; we had both broken it many times now. I looked away for a moment as Cri muttered something that sounded like, "It is good to see you well, too," until I heard them part. Still I waited until the Man addressed me.

"So, are you the famous Riana Cri has told me about?" I turned back to look more closely at this Man who had become something of an older brother or father figure to my precious little brother. Cri looked from me to him and back again before interrupting.

"I need to go find something to eat, Riana, I'll be back later," and ducked out the door before either me or the Man before me could say anything. We both blinked after him for a second or two before returning to study each other again.

I saw a tall, proud man with kind eyes and a gentle smile that hid a surprising strength. His eyes were a pale green, and seemed to have an ability to look straight into a person's soul. They also held far too much worldly knowledge than a Man of his age should know. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, although I was a terrible judge of human ages. He could be far younger or far older; I had little to no way of knowing for sure. I stayed silent for a moment as he took stock of me as I had of him. After a long time, he spoke again.

"He looks like you." I blinked, surprised. I had always thought my brother and I had very little in common as far as appearance went. Apparently I was wrong.

"We do?" I asked, moving to sit in a chair next to his bed. He came and flopped onto the bed in front of me, a small smile on his face.

"Yes," he answered, "but not in actual looks… It is more the way you carry yourselves, and in the way you move." Ah, I thought, That makes sense… I liked this Man, I decided.

"That would make sense. I all but raised him." A silence fell between us for a moment, then I had to ask, "Faramir?" He looked at me in askance and I swallowed hard before going on. "Do you know what happened to my brother? He… will not speak of it to me, and I cannot tell if he is ashamed or is afraid to tell me." A sadness entered Faramir's gaze as he met my eyes.

"I do, and I would assume he is more ashamed of what happened, although there is nothing for him to be ashamed of. I will tell you, but…" he trailed off, the sadness expanding until his entire being exuded it. I sighed, covering my face with my hands. I knew whatever my brother had been through, it was awful enough to erase nearly all of the child he had been. That was enough to worry me; the fact that his friend could hardly bring himself to speak of it frightened me.

"Faramir?" He swung his gaze back to mine. "What happened to my brother?" He sighed, and I wanted to press more. Finally, after a few long, painful moments, he answered me.

"I do not know all the details about what that lad went through, because he told me very little. I can assume much, though." I glared at him, waiting for him to stop dancing around it and come straight out and answer me. He met my eyes squarely and finally answered, "He was captured by Orcs, Riana. He said nothing more than that to me, but I know Orcs. They are cruel masters and even worse captors. I can only imagine the tortures that lad went through."

I shuddered. I had imagined something terrible, but nothing so terrible as that. The young Man rested a hand on my shoulder. "Riana?"

"Yes?" My voice came out as a quiet whisper. I cleared my throat and tried again, "Yes?" He smiled sadly at me and asked,

"What happened to separate you? I can see how much you care for him and he cares for you. You would not have separated willingly, I think." I winced at how quickly he figured that out.

"No, I would never have left him willingly or willingly let him be taken from me." I sighed, moving to stand by the window and stare out across the City. "You must understand, Faramir, I have spoken of what happened to no one. I barely even think of what happened to us, the pain of it was that great. But if you desire to know, I will tell you." I turned back to look at him; the gentle, sad smile was back on his face, but I saw none of the pity I had been expecting.

He was silent for a time, but finally asked, "If you are willing to tell me, I am willing to listen." I took a deep breath, fighting the tears that threatened to overwhelm me, and started.

I told him of our lives in Mirkwood, how we had lived there after the deaths of our parents a century or so before. I told him of the darkness that overtook the majesty of that forest and forced us to leave the sanctuary of its secret halls.

I told him of the ambush that took my little brother away from me.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Two days later, I was called by Gandalf to join what remained of our Fellowship along with a few others in a war council. I went, more because the Wizard asked so nicely; all I wanted to do was sit in the courtyard and think. It had been hard, telling a Man I hardly knew- even if I liked him immediately- all that had been done to me and my brother. Now I needed to think, but it didn't seem I would have the chance to do so. I sighed when I saw the White Wizard approach me as I sat staring out across the city. Now I stood in the Hall of the King, watching as Gandalf and the others debated about what we should do now that the battle of the Pelennor Fields was won.

"Frodo has passed beyond my sight. The darkness is deepening," Gandalf was saying when I finally returned to the conversation. I felt Legolas brush my shoulder briefly as Aragorn and Gandalf argued.

"Are you well, Rianadra?" the Elf whispered behind me, sliding his arm across my shoulders. "You have been… worried… for some time." I glanced back at him, considering lying, but the worried, loving look in his eyes kept me from doing so.

"I…"

Gimli's voice interrupted, "Then let him stay there! Let him rot! Why should we care?" Saved from answering by the Dwarf, I glanced back at the others.

"Because ten thousand Orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom. I've sent him to his death." I sighed; Gandalf's voice was so hopeless. Had he truly given up? There was still hope!

I was about to say something, but Aragorn beat me to it, "No," he said firmly, "there's still hope for Frodo. He needs time, and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

Skeptical as always, Gimli grumbled, "How?"

"Draw out Sauron's armies. Empty his lands," he glanced across our small company and added, "Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."

"We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms." That was Éomer. I sighed, knowing he did have a point. We had nowhere near enough men to fight off all of the Enemy's armies.

"Not for ourselves," Aragorn explained, "but we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us." The King glanced around at all of us again and said, "Keep him blind to all else that moves." Enlightenment shot through me as Legolas commented from behind me, "A diversion."

All was silent for a moment, then Gimli grumbled from the Steward's throne, "Certainty of death. Small chance of success." He paused, grinning, "What are we waiting for?" But Gandalf was not fully convinced.

"Sauron will suspect a trap. He will not take the bait." I figured he was talking only to Aragorn, but I heard him anyway. The Man grinned at his friend.

"Oh, I think he will."

**well, thus ends chapter 43! review please!**


	44. Secrets Long Forgotten

**well, here it is, finally... chapter forty-four is up! :) i like this chapter, although... it's a bit sad... you'll see**

**all characters that are familiar are Master Tolkien's, not mine. Riana, Cri, Cearien, and Callyn are mine**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Forty-Four: Secrets Long Forgotten<p>

As soon as the council was declared finished, I left the Hall of the King, heading for the Houses of Healing yet again. There was a lot to think about, not the least of which was what I should do. I wanted to go with the Men and fight, to give Frodo the one chance he needed; at the same time, though, my little brother needed me. I didn't know what to do, so I headed the only place I could think of to think.

I had hardly left the Hall when a voice from behind me stopped me in my tracks. It wasn't the voice I had been expecting; after all, I had escaped Legolas without giving him an answer for once. He hardly ever let that go without trying several times to get me to explain things. No, this time, it was Gandalf, and the tone of his voice had me frozen before his words fully registered, "Rianadra, I may have discovered why they took your brother." As soon as I understood what he meant, I whirled around to face him.

"What? How?" I could hardly create full sentences in my mind, let alone out my mouth, but the Wizard seemed to understand me. He moved to stand next to me, a gentle look in his eyes, one I wished with all my heart didn't have to be there. He stopped when he was on level with me; I had to turn my head to see him.

His voice was low and grave when he answered me. "I found scrolls in the ancient libraries here, written in a tongue I have not read for many lives of Men. In fact, it had been so long since I have read it, I hardly recognized the language for what it was." I tapped my foot impatiently, trying and most likely failing to disguise my worry and frustration. I had been wondering from the very moment Cri vanished from my sight and hearing why they had taken him. Why Cri and not me? I knew he was special; I had always known that, but I didn't know he was special to others as well. It was a question I had chewed on in my spare time, between fretting over Cri and feeling sorry for myself and my companions. Gandalf watched me for a moment before answering, and his words had my thoughts grinding to a screeching halt.

"It was written in the language of your people, Rianadra of the Mountains. It was written in Amluglambe." I stared at him, hardly believing it. Most of my people who still lived had no idea we even had a written language, let alone how to read it. These must be very ancient scrolls to be written in my people's native tongue.

"How did you find them?" I whispered, every other concern I had vanishing with this news. "And how does this concern me and Cri?" Gandalf laid a hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me along as he answered,

"Come with me and I will show you." I sighed.

"You do know how little of that tongue I can read, correct?" He laughed softly.

"Which is why I will read it. I wish to speak of this in private simply because it deals with why Men and dragonlings have such a history." "A _history_" I thought. That's one way of putting it… More like a blood feud that lasted from about… five generations ago to the present age. But I chose not to say any of that, and if my face gave any hint of my thoughts, Gandalf made no comment.

In fact, he didn't speak again until we reached the dark, slightly dank catacombs that made up the ancient library of Minas Tirith. I felt my legs trembling slightly, but I pushed the fear back enough to focus on what the Wizard was saying, "I was down here some time ago, doing research on the Ring and how it could be discovered and destroyed. I came down here again a short while ago after I discovered your brother's incredible and unusual powers." I nodded.

"Healing is not exactly a common ability among my people. I would like to know more about it myself," I admitted, leaning a little closer to the old parchment Gandalf held carefully in his withered hands. He smiled slightly.

"It does not deal much with the ability itself, more with your people in general. These scrolls, Rianadra, are a history of your people. The most complete history I have ever had the fortune to discover, although there are still pieces missing. Alas for the disappearance of history!" I stared at him, mouth wide open. Remembering what I had once told Gimli when he had a similar expression, I snapped it shut again, but could not draw my gaze from the scroll.

A complete history of my people. Such a thing had never been heard of, even among the few of us left. My parents had certainly never mentioned such a wonderful gift, but even more amazing was how it ended up in a human city, in human hands. But above even that, I wanted to know what it said. I knew so little about my own people; so much of our culture had been lost over time as we dwindled in number and power. Gandalf was still smiling at me, but it was a sad smile that made me twitch.

"It's not a happy story, is it, Gandalf?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. When he shook his head, I sighed deeply. "But it is something I must know, no doubt." Carefully, keeping an eye to the old scrolls and books around me, I settled onto the floor, my back against a dusty stack of books. The Wizard nodded slowly, seating himself in a wooden chair I had been afraid to touch for fear of breaking it. With a sigh, I asked the Wizard to read me my own people's story.

He was right. It wasn't happy.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Our people are dying. We cannot stand against the Shadow that spreads from the Black Land, even as we know now what its Lord has done. We cannot stop now, not when we have come so far.

We were told by the Lord of the Black Land that our children were being captured and slaughtered by the Men of the West. It was not until it was past too late that we discovered the awful truth: we had been deceived. It was not Men who had destroyed our future, our only hope for survival.

He had taken them. Taken them, and changed them. Their hearts, so pure and lovely, had been destroyed by the Evil that spread from the Creator of the One Ring. Even though he lacked physical form, he was plenty dangerous. He spoke to our children, spoke to the blackness in their hearts, and stole them from us. We can now do nothing for them; their hearts are no longer those of our children. They are evil now, born of the Blackness, the Shadow from Mordor.

And now, we have done our share of evil. Convinced by the Lord of the Black Land that it was Men who had taken our children and destroyed their very souls, we held nothing back in our path to vengeance. We believed completely that they were responsible, that we were justified in killing them.

Whole cities burned, falling prey to our flames of revenge and pain. Villages fell to ash, and we roared our victory to the sky as we thought our children's souls were being avenged. Oh, would that we had seen how wrong we were a little sooner. Would that we had seen it in time to prevent the slaughter of our own people.

We were surprised, and we should not have been, when Men decided enough was enough. They decided to take revenge against us for the blood of their loved ones that was spilled. But we would not die easily, sparking a war that would last generations, all for the amusement of the Lord of the Black Land.

And now, there are so few of us left. Once there were thousands, hundreds in every corner of our beloved Arda. And now… We number in the hundreds, hidden away in the deepest forests and highest mountains, places where Men cannot follow. And even as I write this, I know more of the people I love so dearly are dying, leaving children alone. Children who should never have to grow up in such a way, forced to take on roles much too large for them.

Oh, Valar, why did you not show us how very wrong we were?

This was our doing. The Black Lord only provided the spark. We needed no urging after that. This slaughter, those orphaned children, parents forced to see their children murdered. It was our doing. We are to blame.

When the Dark Lord falls, and I pray to the Valar that he will someday, our souls will have peace. We will know that, however horrific our role in this was, it will end on the day when the Dark Lord falls.

And our children, the Nine turned to evil by his Shadow, will join us in the afterlife.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

I stared at Gandalf as he carefully placed the scroll on the table next to him. His grey eyes never left my face; I could only imagine what I must look like. Wetness on my cheeks told me I had broken my rule again and cried. Or was still crying, as another tear trickled down my face. My people… They had been destroyed by the same Dark Lord Frodo had set out to destroy.

I felt something grow in my heart, an anger greater than anything I had ever felt before. Gandalf held a hand up, and I could barely restrain myself enough to hear what he had to say. "We will go to fight him, Rianadra. When Frodo destroys the Ring, your people will be at peace." I stared at him.

"It hardly matters," I said, my voice surprising me; I sounded like I was growling more than speaking. "He tried to destroy my brother's heart and soul, and he will pay." I felt heat coming off my body and moved away from the precious books around me. Gandalf didn't stop me again as I left the catacombs, heading for the sky above the White City.

At least my choice had been made. No matter how much Cri needed me, I needed to be there to bear witness to the fall of the Dark Lord of Mordor. I needed to be there to show my people they had been avenged and they could finally rest in peace.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Five days later, I rode out with a host of the Men of the West. Cri stayed behind with Faramir and Éowyn, since he still needed to heal. He hadn't wanted me to go, but he saw that it was something I needed to do, and so he didn't argue. He just hugged me tight, begged me to come home safe, and retreated to his room. He didn't come see us off, and I could hardly blame him.

But the rage was still boiling in my heart. The rage that come from finally understanding what Sauron had done, not just to Frodo and his family, or Legolas' home in Mirkwood, but to my people. He had nearly destroyed my people, and I would be there to see him fall.

Looking ahead, between Arluin's white ears towards the Shadow that crept across an otherwise blue sky, I whispered my promise and oath to myself.

"You will fall, Sauron. And I will be there, to bear witness for my people. I will be there so they can finally have the peace you stole from them."

**reviews are loved! please?**


	45. Before the Walls of Mordor

**well, here it is, the long-expected and -anticipated chapter, the beginning of the final battle! i hope it lives up to expectations...**

**as usual, i don't own any LOTR characters, but Riana, Cri, Cearien, and Callyn are mine.**

**enjoy!**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Forty-Five: Before the Walls of Mordor<p>

On a balcony of the Houses of Healing stood a young boy with shaggy brown hair. He stood silently, staring out across the Plains of Pelennor where a battle had been fought only a little over a week before. But he was looking out past that, to the black mountains beyond. Riana had gone there to fight. She had gone to fight, and he knew she may not come back.

Cri sniffed, told himself it was the cold, and paced along the wall of the balcony. Riana was a powerful fighter, and she had survived battles the likes of which he could only imagine. He knew she would most likely survive, but he was afraid. He was more afraid now than he had been even when the Orcs had taken him. With a sigh and an order to his body to stop fretting and stay still for five seconds at a time, he faced Mordor again and leaned against the wall. She would come back. She had to, after everything that had happened. Surely the Valar wouldn't put them back together only to tear her away forever. Surely they couldn't be that harsh.

"Cri, lad?" He suppressed a yelp of shock at the unexpected voice and whirled around to face Faramir. The young Man stood in the doorway to the balcony, a worried look in his green eyes. Next to him stood the golden-haired beauty from Rohan, whose name Cri had been told was Éowyn. She smiled sadly at him, and he forced himself to smile back. Faramir led her by the hand to the edge of the balcony next to Cri and tried to smile at the dragonling lad. "Are you well, lad?" Cri had to smile. Faramir was still healing, and he was concerned about Cri? The boy tried to smile.

"I am… worried. Perhaps more than I should be."

"She is your sister?" Éowyn surprised him by asking. "Riana?"

He smiled and nodded , trying to hide the tears at the mention of her name. "She is." He wanted to say more, but couldn't. Turning away from her, he hoped she would ignore his lapse in composure.

A cold touch on his hand brought his head back around; she was standing next to him, her eyes on his face. Cri half wanted to run, but the rest wanted to stay. He stayed and she spoke after a moment. "There is no shame in missing those you love, Cri." He saw a sadness in her eyes then, and knew someone she cared very deeply for had gone to fight as well.

"Who?" She turned back, having turned to stare across at Mordor as well. At her glance, he elaborated, "Who is it that you love and has gone to war?" A tear dropped down her cheek, and she brushed at it. He watched her, waiting.

"Like you, I wait for my family to return home. My brother." Another tear followed the first, and Cri's young heart went out to her. As Faramir came up behind and put his arms around her shoulders, Cri gripped her hand tightly and smiled as best he could. He tried to speak, but found he had no words to say. But it seemed he didn't need to; Faramir spoke for all of them.

"Many who we love have gone to fight in this war. Many have not returned, but many more will." He turned Éowyn so she faced him, and smiled vaguely at Cri. "If you are agreeable, we will wait for them together."

As Cri was about to answer, something from the direction of the Black Land gripped his attention. Power the likes of which he had never felt before but instantly recognized as Riana's exploded across the Plains of Pelennor and hit Cri in the chest. He leaned against the wall, almost falling, his hands gripping his heart. He only vaguely heard Faramir and Éowyn ask him if he was well. All he heard were screams, of pain, of rage, and of vengeance, that echoed across the miles from his sister to him.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Our journey to the black gate was remarkably uneventful, especially compared to the journey to Minas Tirith. I rode in silence for the most part, focusing on what was going to happen in only a few days' time. Others around me were the same, but some talked. I heard snippets of conversation, but few of them interested me.

The only thing I was concerned with was the fall of Sauron. The anger that had carried me through the gates of Minas Tirith had only grown in strength as we rode towards the Black Land. We met no opposition, and I assumed this meant Gandalf was right and the Dark Lord was massing his armies behind the gates of his land. I wanted to see him; I wanted to fight his Orcs and his trolls. I wanted to see him fall.

Even Legolas would not speak with me for long, the rage had grown so powerful. For once, I was grateful of his silence and his distance, although I wished it could have been under other circumstances. But I had to decide which was more important to me; and for now, seing my people avenged was a priority.

Two days after we rode from Minas Tirith, our army approached the Black Gate of Mordor. Still, we saw no one. Nothing moved in the barren land between us and the Gate; not a voice called. Silence reigned, and made the Men nervous and me wary. It was never a good sign when one was able to walk right up to their enemy's front door with an army several hundred strong and have nothing happen in consequence. This could not be a good thing.

As we stood waiting, I heard Men shifting behind me and Pippin whisper from somewhere off to my left, "Where are they?" Éomer shifted on his horse, and everyone but Aragorn and Gandalf followed suit. I shifted my weight a little, making Arluin prance. Before I could calm her down, Aragorn nudged Brego. A small entourage went with him, including me, Legolas with Gimli, Éomer with Merry, and Gandalf with Pippin. We rode right up to the very base of the gate, and only then did Aragorn speak.

"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" he called in a great voice. I was impressed, having not really known he could sound like that. "Let justice be done upon him!" When he was done speaking, the gate creaked and began to move. Around me, I heard my companions moved nervously. I refused to show any fear; instead, I let the anger I still felt show in my face as a single rider on a black horse emerged from behind the gate. Immediately, I knew he was a messenger, and most likely not bearing a message we wanted to hear. I sighed as he stopped before us.

He was dressed in black armor with a visor that covered the upper half of his face, although I questioned whether he had eyes to see through it in any case. The only part of his body visible besides his hands was his mouth and chin. Blood dripped from his lipless mouth even as he sat silent, watching us. I shuddered, imagining what it would look like when he did speak. Unfortunately, I didn't think to look away before he spoke, so I was greeted with a sight I could have lived the rest of my life happily without ever seeing.

When he spoke, blood dripped from dried and cracking skin around his mouth and his voice was deep, gravelly, and caused shivers to run up and down my spine, "My master Sauron the Great, bids thee welcome." He paused, and I thought perhaps he was trying to smirk. "Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?" Aragorn shifted for the first time, and I glanced at him. The look on the King of Men's face would have had me rolling on the ground laughing if we were not where we were. But we were here before the Black Gate, and I had not the ability to laugh freely. I stayed silent as Gandalf answered,

"We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed. Tell your master this: the armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return." If the stranger could smile, I thought he would have when he spoke next. His tone implied a smile, and not the good kind.

"Old Greybeard," he said, "I have a token I was bidden to show thee." He reached into a saddlebag and pulled something white and shiny free. I felt my entire body go tense when I recognized it: Frodo's Mithril shirt. My heart stopped, and I stopped even hearing what was going on around me. Frodo…. The rage I had barely held back on the ride here exploded in my heart again as it resumed beating. My hands tightened on Arluin's reigns, but she didn't move, obviously understanding that movement was not a wise idea. I tuned back in just in time to hear the Mouth speak once more. Bile rose in my throat at his words.

"The Halfling was dear to you, I see. Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host." He paused, a chuckle building in his throat. I forced the bile back down and called on my power. Heat built in my palms as I rested one hand on the hilt of my sword and forced myself to wait. "Who would have thought that one so small could endure so much pain? And he did, Gandalf," the Mouth added, outright laughing now. "He did."

My control snapped. I saw Aragorn moving for his sword, but I was not going to let him take this from me. Narsūl swung free of her sheath with a battle cry as I snarled at the Mouth of Sauron, "You stinking, cowardly liar! He is not dead!" The Mouth turned to face me, his laughter dying; but before he could say anything more, Narsūl screamed in my head that she wanted his blood. She needed to taste his blood to prepare for the battle to come.

I agreed.

Burning white light burst from the stone in her hilt, filling the engravings of my home on the blade before moving to my very veins. Power slammed into me, even greater than the first time this had happened. In my mind, I heard the voices of thousands of my people, screaming for vengeance. I barely heard my own scream, both of rage and of pain, underneath all of theirs.

Tears streamed from my eyes as Narsul pointed directly at the Mouth of Sauron. I spoke then, something that even to this day, I do not remember. But I remember the Power. The strength of all those who had died fighting the Lord of the Black Land, the children he had destroyed rushed through me and I knew I had a chance to make a dent in their guilt.

With a scream of rage, pain, I threw the Power in my body at him. Just as swiftly as it had filled me, it left me empty and swaying. But I saw what it did: a great swirl of fire surrounded the Mouth, burning him and his mount into nothing. He probably screamed, but above the roar of the flames, it was inaudible. Before long, there was nothing left of him but a burnt spot on the ground that shone like glass.

Behind me, I barely heard Gimli say in a rough voice, "I guess that concludes negotiations."

**well, did it live up to expectations? tell me in a nice, lovely review and make my day tomorrow!**


	46. Beneath the Shadows, Beyond the Light

**man, oh man, oh man, i am SO SORRY it took me this long to update... the sad thing is, i don't even have an excuse except a friend of mine stole my inspiration... it's all his fault, yes, go kill him, not me... either way, the next chapter is here *yes, you may scream FINALLY!* so i'll be quiet now and let you guys get to it...**

**all lotr folk belong to Tolkien, not me, but Rianadra, Cri, Cearien, and Callyn are mine :)**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Forty-Six: Beneath the Shadows, Beyond the Light<p>

There was silence for a long moment as everyone- myself, Aragorn, Gimli, Gandalf, and the host of Men behind us- stared at the glassy spot on the ground where the Mouth had perished. I felt a whisper, some vague murmur in the back of my mind, but I could hardly hear it, let alone make out what it was. I shook my head firmly, glaring at Arluin's mane, and slowly, the whispering faded. Legolas glanced at me in concern, Gimli's eyes also peeking out at me from under his helmet; I sighed.

"Before you two mother hens ask, I am fine, and no, I have no idea what that was," which was actually a lie; I had a very good idea what had just happened. Both of them gave me disbelieving looks, which I couldn't even really blame them for. I _was_ bold-faced lying, after all.

Legolas studied my face and sighed deeply. "You don't have to lie, Rianadra," he told me, his voice low and serious. I stared at him, trying not to look away. "You were lying, too." I did look away then, grumbling under my breath, but before I could retort, a new sound distracted all three of us:

The gate was opening.

With a dull scraping sound, the great black doors of the Gates of Mordor began to creak open; beyond them, we heard the sounds of thousands of booted feet marching in a fairly even beat. Mordor's armies were here, ready to do battle. I glanced back over my shoulder at my friends and tried to smile even as Aragorn cried, "Fall back!" and turned Brego to race back to our men. The rest of us followed swiftly to the sound of our enemies swiftly approaching; the thunder of their feet and their guttural cries for battle had even the strongest of our men turning slightly green. I could see it even from several hundred feet back, and it only became more clear the closer we got to them.

Most of them were looking ready to bolt by the time our small "negotiations party" returned; a couple had faces nearly as white as the clouds above us and looked seconds away from keeling over where they stood. I sighed grumpily. Men could be such cowards. It wasn't like we hadn't faced nigh insurmountable odds before. Helm's Deep, for one. The Battle of Pelennor was another. We had been successful before, and we would do so again. My fingers closed gently around Narsúl's wire-wrapped hilt and felt that gentle whisper in my mind again.

This time, as Aragorn called to the men, I listened to it. My sword spoke directly into my mind in a way she never had before; I heard her tell me things I had never known. I knew my blade was no Elf-blade, but… I hadn't known this.

In a soft, gentle voice, she told me things I had never even dreamed possible, things spoken of with awe in our oldest legends. Things I had never believed could be real.

_Many thousands of years ago, my kind were created, _she whispered to me, her voice old, like the stars above. _Swords of great and terrible power, created for only one wielder. Many times, the one who forged us knew not who would one day own us. They only knew how we must be made: in the fires born of the very heart of the earth, filled with a Power very few could hold. I am the last that was ever created, and my Power is like nothing any has ever seen before, nor will any see it again._

I stared at my blade, wondering if this could be true. 'If this is true, then how is it you came to me? How did the Lady Galadriel find you?' A soft laugh echoed in my mind, sounding oddly similar to that of the Lady Galadriel herself.

_ The Lady of which you speak knew the one who forged me. She has a foresight more powerful even than the Lord Elrond, who was friend to your parents._ I felt my jaw drop and swiftly shut it, hoping no one around me had noticed. None had; they were all focused on whatever speech Aragorn was giving. I grinned slightly, relieved and turned my attention back to what my sword was saying- and I almost laughed aloud at how odd that sounded.

'He knew my parents? How come I never knew about this?' I felt my sword smile and had to force one back myself.

_You would have met him had your parents lived, young one_, Narsúl whispered to me. _Your father traded with the Lord of Rivendell many times; it was all but impossible to avoid, since the Misty Mountains where your clan lived is close to the Elven river city._ I nodded mentally; this did make sense. But even more important was how on Earth this blade, a rare and powerful artifact even among my own people, had fallen into the Lady Galadriel's hands. I heard another soft laugh from my sword and focused on her again.

_The Lady Galadriel, as I said, knew the one who forged me, Ekeni.. His descendant, Kenai, is, I believe, part of the Eastern Mountain clan. Or was, if that line still exists. Regardless, she knew Ekeni, who forged me. He said she would know who I was meant for. I spent centuries kept secret in the vaults of the Golden Wood. And now, you have need of my Power, young one. You have had but a taste of what I can truly unleash._ I sighed deeply, my fingers tightening unconsciously around her hilt. After a moment, I felt a hand lay over mine; looking up, I met the concerned blue eyes of Legolas.

"I am well, do not worry," I told him, not entirely aware of what I was saying. "Nothing is wrong." He shook his head, a grin slowly forming on his face.

After a moment he answered me, "I am not worried, as much. I am more curious." Narsúl made a sarcastic sound in my head and I grumbled something rather uncomplimentary to her. I heard her laughter as Legolas continued to stare at me, concern and curiosity warring for the top spot in his expression. I grinned.

"Apparently my sword can talk," I explained softly. One blonde eyebrow rose slightly, but after a moment, he shook his head.

"Somehow, Rianadra," he murmured, "this does not in any way surprise me." He squeezed my hand briefly. "It will begin soon. We should be ready." I nodded and was about to respond when Narsul decided to speak up again.

_He is right, young one. Which is why I offer to you again what is rightfully yours as your father's heir. I was crafted for your hand, and only your hand. I was made to fight evil, to shine in places where no light has or will again. The heart of Middle Earth crafted me; the Elves shall hide me; the heart of a Dragon's Child shall carry me to our doom._

'And I am that "Dragon's Child"?' I asked thoughtfully. Somehow, that didn't really surprise me as much as I thought it should. Dragonlings were, after all, distant relatives of the ancient Dragons. In ancient times, back when we had first changed, we were known as Dragon's Children, or so the legends went. My mother had told me the stories when I was but three decades old, and I remembered some of them. Narsúl's whispering voice broke through my memories a moment later.

_ You are one of what once were many. I offer you what is yours: Power that none of your people has seen since the ancient days of your kind. Take it; it belonged to you when I was forged, and it belongs to you now._ Before I had any say in the matter, I felt something… _shift_ inside of me. There were no other words to explain it.

Fire exploded in my very veins, and I had to actively work to not cry out and attract all sorts of unwanted attention. In that moment, the ancient Power of my people, Power that had been crafted for me, flowed from my blade to me. And in an instant, everything changed.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Cri stood silently on the balcony of the Houses of Healing, alone. His orange eyes were focused on something too far away even for dragonling eyes to see, but he didn't need to see to know what was happening.

Riana was fighting. He knew it in a place deep inside of him that he hadn't previously known existed. But he knew. She was battling somewhere where he could not join her, for one reason or another, and he knew she was not alone. That was all that kept him standing here instead of taking to the skies to join her, consequences be damned.

Actually, he was seriously considering do so anyway. There were, however, several reasons he held himself back, and he heard one of them approaching the doorway to the balcony he stood on. "Cri?" came the soft, almost emotionless voice of the Lady Éowyn; Cri sighed softly. Despite everyone's attempts to keep her from drowning in her own feelings, she was only getting worse. Even Faramir's attentions were hardly getting results from her, and he was closer to her than anyone. Slowly the dragonling lad turned to face her, forcing a small smile to his face.

"My lady." She moved, slowly and jerkily, as though she were in great pain, to stand next to him. All was silent for a time, and then she asked,

"How do you do it?" Confused, he glanced at her.

"Do what, my lady?"

"Wait." She sighed, brushing her golden hair out of her eyes and continued, "You stand here, for hours, and watch, and wait. How do you do it, knowing she may not come back?"

He had to think about his answer for a long time before giving her a response. His blind faith in his sister was not something that was easily explained or believed, by and large. Most people simply could not understand it, and he had a vague suspicion that "blind faith" was not what the Lady of Rohan wanted in this moment. Finally, he answered, "I believe in her. I have faith in her abilities. But most of all, if I did not wait for her, I would be even more afraid than I already am." She looked confused, so he elaborated a little, "If I did not wait for her, I would think I had given up. I may come to believe that she won't return, and I cannot let that happen."

"You trust her to be careful?" Were this not so serious a situation, Cri would have laughed. Riana was not known for being careful.

"No," he answered. "I trust her to come back alive. In several pieces, maybe, but alive." After a moment, she nodded, the ghost of a smile on her face; Éowyn turned to the South with him, and they waited together, sharing the hope that their loved ones would return alive.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

I was beginning to truly hate Orcs, if I hadn't already. There were literally thousands of them, and despite the Power my blade had unlocked for me, there were always at least three more of the foolish things to take the place of one I had killed. They simply refused to end!

Brushing blood- I honestly couldn't tell if it was mine or someone else's- I spared a quick glance around, ignoring the flames that surrounded my sword and part of my hand. Most of our warriors were doing surprisingly well for themselves, but there was only so much they could do. After all, we were only a few hundred against nearly ten thousand.

How the battle had started was still a slight mystery to me. Legolas had dragged me off my horse, and then suddenly… we were fighting. I had lost track of how long it had dragged on at this point, but the sun was still in the sky, although it was hard to see. I was about to dive back into the fray when a sound I had come to know only too well came from the sky; I froze and many of the Men collapsed where they stood.

_GO!_ my sword commanded, and my blood responded before my mind could. My wings spread from my back, my tail almost straight out behind me, and I was in the air before I really knew how I had gotten there. Another rush of Power shot through my body and then I was something else. My human body no longer existed, but this new form wasn't my old Dragon shape. This was something completely different.

Even as I flew upwards towards this new threat to my allies, I was twisting in the air, trying to understand what had happened. It felt like this new body was longer, sleeker, than my old one had been. I heard a laugh in my mind, and out of the corner of my eye saw a shimmering form, a dragon of glass, sailing along beside me.

Narsúl.

Before I had even the slightest chance to understand what was happening, my sword and I came upon our enemy. I heard them screaming for battle, a sound that had frozen me in my tracks down below. Now, I just shook it off like a duck does water, and attacked. My claws found purchase almost immediately, my teeth the flesh of Fell Beasts. Black blood ran down my jaws and chest in little rivers, and I could not have been more ecstatic.

Now the battle had truly begun.

**i have no right to ask, but i shall beg anyway... review, please? tell me what was good, and what could be improved for the next chapter!**


	47. Eradan's Daughter

**OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY! words cannot describe how sorry i am that this took so ridiculously long... it did NOT want to get written, but it's finally here! I hope you enjoy, and i most certainly hope it was worth the wait...**

**Happy Thanksgiving!**

**Oh, and all LOTR folk are NOT mine, although there aren't many of them in here, and all OC's are mind: Rianadra, Cri, Cearien, Callyn, Alteri, and Aryn.**

The Fellowship Plus One  
>Chapter Forty-Seven: Eradan's Daughter<p>

Alteri of the Mountains stood at the peak of Caradhras, staring out across the range; a small, tight smile pulled at his mouth, but it wasn't one of amusement. It was oddly nostalgic to be here, in the place his clan had fled over a century ago. Alteri had left his titles and old clan behind when the Men had come and slaughtered their last great Leader- or Xchellen- Eradan as well as most of the clan. Eradan's mate had been killed shortly before, and no one knew what had become of his children.

And what remained of the clan had scattered to the winds, hoping against hope that someday they would come together again. There were, after all, rumors that Eradan's daughter, at least, had survived. If she had, it meant they would still have a Leader. The dragonlings as a whole needed a Leader; the Mountain Clan in particular was desperate. As far as Alteri knew, he and his brother were the only ones who had returned; but there was something here… an odd echo of Power that was far too new to have been from the battle all those years ago. It felt familiar, too, although he had been too young at the time to remember who it belonged to.

"Alteri?" his brother's voice called from below him. "What are you looking for?" Alteri chuckled and launched himself back to meet his brother, who was waiting a few ledges below.

"Do you sense it too, Aryn?" Aryn's black head nodded, his misty gold eyes looking slightly past Alteri's shoulder. "Power that shouldn't be here?" Again, his brother nodded; his blind eyes closed and Alteri winced as his brother's Power rushed through him and across the mountain range and deep below. Then the younger of the brothers folded his wings around him and his dark grey tail around his legs, and waited. Aryn would talk again when he was ready.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

I panted harshly, blood running down my chest, my own and my enemy's. All around me, black shapes dove and whirled, their riders doing their best to slash my wings and anything else they could reach. Past them, I could barely make out the form of Narsúl, her silvery eyes staring at me. I couldn't quite read the expression on her face, but I knew I was not in a good place.

Pulling my wings in close around my body to protect them, I dropped like a stone until I was out of range of blades or claws before rolling over and over to escape from under them. Once I was far enough away, I turned back, unfolded my wings, and, with a roar, pushed myself further up through the air. Blood rushed down my wings from the tears made my swords and talons, but I had to ignore it and the pain. It would cripple me if I didn't, and then I would be dead and these creatures would be free to terrorize the Men, my companions and comrades.

I could not allow that. Not while I still had a fighting chance, my last trump card that not even my companions and friends knew about. It was a risk, a huge risk, but I had no choice. Most of my Power was leaking through the bloody tears and other snags in my wings, and I still needed it. Needed everything I had, and more, if I were going to even try and make this work.

I needed to enter the animal state of my mind. I needed to go Feral.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Aryn closed his blind eyes, although why he did, not even he understood. It wasn't like it made much of a difference whether his eyes were open or not. Only his Power made him useful, and sometimes he felt it was the only reason Alteri kept him around. On his good days, however, he knew his brother loved him and helped him because of their shared blood and that bond. And he was getting distracted; if he wanted to use the only thing he was good for, his head needed to be clear, free of distractions.

_Breathe in…_

The wind tugged gently at his hair, brought the smell of snow and rain to him; the scent of frozen dirt, and the smell of dead things beneath the mountain. The sun, while not particularly strong this high up, caressed his face, reminding him of the warmth of the deserts where he and Alteri had been for a time, wandering with another clan.

_Hold…_

The wind stilled for a moment, although it were holding its breath with him. A cloud covered the sun for a moment, and all the scents stilled in his nose. It seemed as though, for a split second, time itself had stopped, that it was waiting.

_Breathe out…_

All distractions left him in a rush, leaving behind a blank mind, an animalistic nature, and a Power too great to be used otherwise. Aryn kept his eyes closed, and sent that Power out across the range, deep into the earth below his feet, and out across the lands surrounding them. There was power there, stirrings of power that hadn't been felt by any of his kind for a century. It was familiar, somehow, although he knew somewhere that it shouldn't be.

It was too strong to be a normal Clan member, even someone like him; nor was it the Power of healer. There was a _slight_ hint of Healer-power, but it was much fainter, much further away, towards the lands of Men. He would think later on just why that would be, but for now he needed to understand where this Warrior-power was coming from. It had to have origins somewhere; Aryn narrowed his search to the Misty Mountains, delving deep into the caverns below. There he got a surprise: deep below, in the Dwarf city and mine, Moria, he felt the stirrings of Dragon-Warrior-power, and of a much darker Power. This was not coincidence.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

My Power rushed through me yet again, albeit much more strongly than ever before. I had never felt it this way, except maybe once when I was a child. I did my best to avoid going Feral; I was too dangerous as a Dragon. I generally didn't want to risk it. But now I had to, if I wanted to save my friends. I looked above me, surprised to see Narsúl floating almost directly overhead. Before I had the slightest chance to wonder what she was doing, her glassy form changed from a dragon's shape to something similar to her weapon form. A sword made of glass, hanging directly over my heart.

Then she dropped, and everything she had kept from me until now slammed through my veins like hot molten metal. I screamed, surprised that it was a scream and not a roar, and dropped again, this time in an uncontrolled tumble nearly to the ground. At the last second, instinct took over, and I barely managed to avoid killing myself. Still screaming, although I could hardly hear it anymore over the sound of my heart racing and my ragged breaths, I tried to get back into the air. I was worse than useless like this.

All at once, my scream turned back into a roar, and my human mind simply… stopped. I was no longer a dragonling. I was Dragon. I was Feral. And I had a job to do.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Aryn followed the trail of Power from Moria to the Elven woodland fortress of Lorien, to a spot in the middle of nowhere by a waterfall. By the time he reached it there, it was a great deal more familiar, although he still could not say to whom it belonged. But he was getting close.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

The Nazgŭl didn't seem to know what was happening now. They still fluttered around me, but they couldn't catch me anymore. Flames shot from my mouth, blood ran from my jaws and down my chest. Black blood. It tasted good, and I wanted more of it. I wanted these creatures gone, and dead.

Below me, I barely registered the sounds of fighting, the screams of the dying. They were unimportant, although some part of me remembered a face. Two faces, actually, and I was hard pressed to remember which one was more important. A burning cut down my side forced my attention back to my own battle. The faces returned to wherever they had come from, somewhere in the back of my mind, and I focused on the fight.

These beasts needed to die, and soon. And I was going to kill them; they would fall to my claws, my fire, my teeth. They would fall before me like the mountains when the earth moved.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Aryn's eyes snapped open, and for an instant, he saw bright silver and deep purple in place of the black his world was normally wrapped in. He had found her at least, deep in the heart of the lands of Men, too close to the lands of darkness for his liking. But he knew her; he remembered her! The line of Leaders was not broken, as they had long thought. The rumors were true!

"Aryn?" Alteri's voice spoke, and the last of those glorious colors faded. Aryn turned to face the general direction his younger brother's voice came from, although he was probably off. A gentle hand turning him back to his right a little proved him right. As usual, Alteri didn't comment, simply asking, "Did you find it?" Aryn nodded.

"I know who it is, brother. I know where the Power came from."

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

One of the Valar-cursed things finally dropped from the sky, and I roared my victory to the darkened skies overhead. It didn't matter that I still had seven foes to fight and slay. One of them was dead. With its blood pouring down my body in little rivers, I turned to face the others, a glint of victory and of bloodlust in my eyes.

They would all fall like that one. I would make those vague, fuzzy faces in my mind safe. I would kill these false dragons, even if they had once been my kindred. There was no saving them now.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

"Who is it, Aryn?" Alteri snapped, finally irritated at his brother's silly mind games. "Who is it?" Aryn's slow smile told him his news was of great importance, and he suddenly felt afraid, more afraid than he had been in a hundred years. "Aryn?"

"Eradan's line is not dead, brother. We will have a Xchellen again." Alteri felt as though the earth had suddenly flipped upside down. A Leader. A Xchellen. A Xchellen.

"Truly, Aryn?" he whispered, feeling all the blood rush from his face and head, leaving him oddly dizzy.

"Yes, Alteri." Aryn's blind eyes focused uncannily on his brother's face. "She is fighting near Molgah, what Men and Wizards and Elves call Mordor. Eradan's Daughter has returned."

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Across the Mountains, the Eagles rose from their Aerie to do battle for the first time in years, since the Battle of Five Armies. As a flock, they rose to the sky, turning the air black with their wings before taking off for Mordor. Riding the winds, they flew forth; ready to destroy the worst Evil Arda had faced since Morgoth.

Far beyond the Mountains, the feeling of Power reached the distant Clans. The Elders knew what it meant, and armies were marshaled. The dragonlings were ready to defend one of their own who had elected to fight with Men.

Eradan's Daughter had returned.

**OOO, something interesting :D i think so, anyway, but i might be biased... Either way, let me know i'm forgiven for the LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG delay with a lovely review, please!**


	48. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Author's Note**

Hey, everybody, I'm sorry for not updating this in FOREVER… I've been working on an original story titled "Dragon Skies", and as such have had no inspiration to spare for this… I'll be on hiatus for a while, until I get "Dragon Skies" completed, so I'm sorry to those of you who are looking forward to the next chapter here. However, if you're bored and are looking for something to read, I would love feedback on "Dragon Skies".

Here are the links to it:

gallery / 30643292 (without the spaces, of course)

This is where I put all the chapters and the character drawings I've done to date. If you just want the story, here's my FictionPress version:

.com / s / 3094387/ 1 / Dragon-Skies (again, without the spaces)


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